Shadowed Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)

by J. C. Daniels

  Ten seconds later, I studied it again.

  “What in the hell is that?” Damon asked, voicing what I’d been asking myself for the past few seconds.

  “Hell,” I murmured. That, to me, sounded oddly on base. Maybe that was what we were dealing with.

  “Who bought the feed? How many people have seen it?” I asked softly.

  “Outside the US? Millions—possibly billions. In the US?”

  At Chang’s pause, I looked at him, turning my back to the screen with some reluctance. It wasn’t that I was worried about the screen.

  But the thing I’d seen reflected in the window instead of Whitmore’s face?

  Yeah. That was unsettling.

  “And in the US?” I asked, prompting Chang and trying to forget about the uneasiness induced by whatever it was staring back out at us from the reflection.

  “Hard to say.” Chang paced closer to the media screen. “You see, the original feed had what we’ll call a…trace in it. Anytime a copy of that original feed comes up, an alert gets sent out, that feed is marked, and it gets shut down—even if it means shutting down the website.”

  “They can’t just shut down a website.” I tried to smile, but found that I couldn’t.

  “They do. They have.” Chang was still staring at the screen. “Fortunately the buyers of the original were clever and knew to make copies from the original feed and they changed the names. They also aren’t within the US and they make certain to keep that feed circulating.”

  He paused for a moment and I could tell he was now taking his time, choosing each word with care. “It would appear that there are many who have concerns about this man, Kit. Enough that there is actually an entire underground movement that watches him and they are very organized.”

  “Well.” Puffing up my cheeks with air, I turned back to the disk. “Maybe they could prove useful.”

  “A few of them already have. I received a name and have forwarded the information I gathered on to what we shall call…fair eyes in the media. There is going to be a considerable shit storm dropping down on him shortly.” He checked the time on his watch. “Very shortly.”

  I’d been trying to think back over everything that had happened in South Carolina, wanting to make sure we hadn’t done anything, left anything behind that could trip us up. There was a risk we might have been caught on camera, but Nova had mentioned he was blowing them en route, before they could even zero in on us.

  Nova.

  Cameras.

  “Where’s Nova?”

  It struck me as weird that I had only just thought to ask, but even as that occurred to me, I realized why.

  Nova—he was the reason why.

  That was what triggered the memory onslaught and just like that, I felt like somebody had jerked a veil from a bank of memories. Him talking to me by the SUV as somebody carried Justin in on a litter, Colleen trailing along behind like a lost stray.

  He’d hugged me, spoken softly to me.

  I’d told him to wait.

  He’d touched my cheek and smiled.

  That was when the veil dropped down.

  “Man, I’m going to hurt him,” I muttered. I went to shove my hair back, irritated beyond all belief—I’d wanted to talk to him. Just…talk. And he was already gone.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Damon had come up behind me and he rested a hand on my belly. His thumb rubbed across one of the mostly healed claw marks as I turned to him. An ache settled in my chest and without thinking about it, I wrapped my arms around his waist. Damon cupped a hand over the back of my neck and kissed the top of my head. “What’s wrong, Kit?” he asked again, his voice softer now, gentle.

  “Nova. He’s gone.” And he might as well be gone, gone. He’d left East Orlando and was probably out of Florida by now, on his way to the compound in Georgia where he’d do as he’d once told me he’d do—go out in a blaze of glory, taking out a bunch of bad people along the way.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Tipping my head back, I met his eyes. “He was with us when we met at the Green Road house here in Orlando, wasn’t he?”

  Damon’s eyes clouded. I saw the instant he broke through whatever haze Nova had put on his memories. “What the...”

  “Nova. He can do that. I doubt he got in your head, so to speak. He just clouded your thoughts so he could slip away without anybody thinking much about it. He didn’t want anybody mentioning him around me—that’s the thing here. He wanted to leave without me knowing. Without Justin or Colleen knowing.”

  “Why?” Damon flexed his hand on the back of my neck and I caught the glint of anger in his eyes, but he was holding it in remarkably well.

  “Because he’s heading off to die.” Easing away, I sniffed and tried to blink back the burn of tears. “Nova knows the exact day, hour, and minute of his death and he’s figured out the where and the why, too. It’s got something to do with Blackstone. He...”

  A bit of more memory worked free.

  I suck at good-byes, Kit. You’ve got things here still to do and Justin, Colleen, well they need you. I’ve got this deal handled.

  You be good.

  Nova, wait—

  “He’s gone.” I set my jaw tight. “That bastard.”

  The tears spilled out.

  Damon wrapped his arms around me. “Go ahead and cry, kitten.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I took the next call.

  Damon didn’t like it.

  It didn’t matter.

  Chang had appeared as if summoned by magic, knocking politely while I stood in front of the screen, hands on my hips and staring down the man who called himself Whitmore.

  I was angry.

  I was so angry and just staring at the blue-eyed blond with the arrogant smile only made it worse.

  My two best friends were tucked away in the healing hall of a powerful witch house. Another friend was on his way to die. The Clan and the Pack were hunkering down for who knows what, all because this smug, smirking piece of work had decided to use me as his personal pawn and I had no idea what his end game might be.

  “Ah, so you finally arise from your sick bed,” Whitmore said, the doubt all but dripping from his words.

  His eyes flicked down to my belly, eying the scars just barely visible under the bottom of the shirt I’d put on. I’d chosen it deliberately, for that very reason. Not so much as See? It couldn’t have been me, but more like a…you can’t prove anything.

  And he couldn’t, otherwise he would have already sent the federal version of Banner to come and get me. He wasn’t done, though. I was sure of that. He would make another try. Or perhaps that was what this phone call was about.

  “Well, it hurt a little too much to get up and move around earlier. Gotta tell you, the were virus packs a punch.” Chang moved across my field of vision and I glanced up, watched as he came to a stop in front of the media screen. He activated it manually and turned, catching my eye.

  Damon was standing behind me and he came to ready alertness almost immediately. He had been slumping against the counter, a bored expression on his face, but he wasn’t bored now.

  Although the media screen’s sound was off, there was no question just what had started to go down.

  “Kit, I must say, I’ve never had anybody seem quite so…bored with talking to me as you.” The cold snap in Whitmore’s voice had me offering a smile of mock sympathy before I looked at the TV.

  Yeah. Things were about to get very, very interesting.

  “Mr. President, are you familiar with Guerilla News?”

  He pursed his lips. “A shoddy operation full of crazies and conspiracy theorists. Sadly, they’re based outside this country and we can’t do much to silence them.”

  “Well, technically, going by the US Constitution, you couldn’t do much to silence them here, either.” I looked at the screen again, wondering how much longer—

  There was a beep that came across the line, briefly inte
rrupting our conversation.

  Whitmore’s mouth went tight, his eyes flashing silver. “You’re a naïve girl if you truly believe that. It’s not always best for the public to know everything.”

  “True. I don’t really think they need to know whether or not some celebrity put on weight or has her daughter in private school, and really, it’s nobody’s business if their next door neighbor is a shapeshifter. But those mortals love to natter on about it, don’t they? That’s not why I’m asking, though. You got any idea what GN is talking about right now?”

  There was another beep that came right in the middle of his reply.

  He leaned forward, ignoring me completely as he pushed a button. “I said I wasn’t to be disturbed—”

  Over another line, a man’s voice came through. “Mr. President, this is urgent. You will want to know this.”

  I heard something else—a door. Whatever screen Whitmore was using for our conversation was averted and I saw nothing but darkness. The line remained open, though. Chang, Damon, and I had no trouble listening to the low, intense conversation as a man who had to be human spoke to the man we knew wasn’t.

  “It’s a smear campaign, sir, of the worst sort, and it is bad. You need to be watching Guerilla News right now.”

  The man spoke in a babbling sort of rush and his heart rate was so erratic, even I could hear it. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to have a heart attack.

  “Very well, Robert. Tell me, just what sort of garbage have they concocted this time? Do I have an alien lover? Am I involved with a devil-worshipping cult somewhere down in Zimbabwe?” The snide derision in Whitmore’s voice came off as a verbal slap and I had no doubt that the human, Robert, felt it.

  Still, he carried on. “Sir, they are…they’re claiming you’re not human.”

  “Really.” That single word carried more icy menace than I’d heard in my entire lifetime.

  Goosebumps broke out over my flesh.

  “Please, Robert. Might I use your computer?”

  “Of…of course, sir.” The words came out in a stammering rush and something clattered. “I’m so sorry. Here you go, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  Listening to the conversation and being unable to see had become strangely nerve-wracking. Uneasy, I eased closer to Damon. He smoothed a hand up and down my spine as we continued to listen.

  There was a tinny noise—the newscaster and though Chang still had the media screen on mute, when I glanced over, I had a weird sort of stereo effect.

  “…long suspected by a number of individuals, but the proof now presented by an unknown source looks to be quite alarming. We’re having it reviewed by several experts in the field. As you can see in these side-by-side comparisons, the president of our closest ally has undergone a number of strange, seemingly unremarkable changes. While taken separately—”

  The sound cut off.

  “Very effective, don’t you think, Robert?”

  “Yes. I’ve contacted the Canadian Prime Minister, however, you know their views when it comes to this sort of thing.”

  “Quite, Robert, You’ve been very helpful. Thank you.”

  Abruptly, the screen shifted and we were face to face with Whitmore once more.

  Only, he wasn’t Whitmore.

  The face wasn’t too dissimilar, really. Long, thin, aesthetically handsome. The eyes were larger, though. For too large to be human and the brow was very pronounced. He was oddly beautiful, but it was a satyrical, almost demonic sort of beauty and looking at him was enough to freeze my blood.

  His hair had lengthened in the short moments since we’d seen him and I realized I’d been off—way off. He was a shapeshifter of sorts.

  Absently, I recalled thinking that I’d heard rumors about NHs who could change their shape due to some sort of magic, rather than the virus. I’d never met one, hadn’t ever really wanted to.

  But I was looking at one now. I knew it in my gut.

  “Well, well, well...”

  He looked at me over the screen, his eyes still blue, although they were more vivid, more intense. And they glowed in the dim room with a fire borne of nothing but malice.

  “That, dear girl, was quite clever. How did you pull it off? Will you tell me?” He no longer spoke with the flat accent of an American. I heard the music of Wales and England in his voice now.

  When you move a lot of people around, their monsters tend to follow.

  I’d said that earlier. Maybe I should have paid better attention to myself.

  Now I just needed to figure out which monster I was dealing with.

  “You’re giving me too much credit,” I said, shrugging with more carelessness than I felt. “What happened to your buddy Rob?”

  Something flashed in his eyes but it disappeared fast. “Robert? Oh, he’s here and there. Literally.”

  I guess he didn’t think I’d take him seriously, so he decided to show me.

  Robert was indeed here and there. To be precise, his head was sitting on the desk, as though on display, staring ghoulishly. Then I had the pleasure of viewing his body, slumped against the wall, hands in his lap while the palm-sized tablet computer that had borne witness to all this unpleasantness lay between his splayed thighs, the screen now splashed with blood.

  There was no sign of the weapon that had been used.

  “So. That’s where Robert is, my dear Kit.”

  He smiled at me with maniacal glee.

  “If you’re expecting me to shiver with fear, then you really don’t know much about me. I’ve severed a head or two myself.” Still, some part of me felt an odd sort of pity for the now-headless Robert. He’d rushed in, completely clueless and harmless. “Tell me something, since you’re clearly not the president, what am I to call you?”

  “Master would suffice.”

  Damon bent forward, crowding in until it was only his face filling the viewfinder. “Dead man will work for me.”

  “Oh…the big, brooding beast can speak.” He chuckled, not impressed. “Boy, I was rutting on your ancestors—before they could make the shift to human. You don’t scare me.”

  “Wow. You fucked animals. That’s really going to put the fear of God into us.” Out of view of the screen, I reached down and closed my hand around Damon’s wrist, squeezing lightly. Letting him goad us wasn’t going to help anything.

  “Kit, I’ve fucked everything…the good, upstanding citizens of this country, the lovely goddess you so indiscriminately killed with one of your paltry guns.” His lip quivered in a sneer. “Your head.”

  I only barely kept from flinching. “Is this about Pandora?”

  “Oh, bloody hell, no. She was a great deal of fun, but no. This has nothing to do with vengeance, precious.” He looked amused even at the thought. “Isidora—and that is what you should call her, child—she was fun, but no bit of pussy is worth bothering myself over.”

  “Then what are you bothering yourself over?” Folding my arms over my chest, I angled my head to the side. Give me something, give me something… Any small bit he dropped, any loose thread that, and I could use to unravel this. I didn’t need much. “Why did you send me after the Black Anni? You wanted something from them, didn’t you? Didn’t plan on them killing me. I don’t know why I didn’t see that sooner. You were betting on my luck getting me through it. So what did I mess up when I wouldn’t go in?”

  “Finally figured that out, did you, poppet?” He braced his chin on his fist, looking for all the world like a school boy. “Clever little bitch. Yes, you did muck things up a bit when you wouldn’t go inside. I figured you’d catch a whiff of their nastiness and forge on in. You’ve got a valiant streak a mile wide and the Black Anni will hunt down a dog that pissed on the wrong tree. You would hunt down somebody who stepped on a dog’s tail—on accident, mind you. But you steered clear of those foul bitches. Why is that?”

  “I didn’t want to get eaten by one of them. Call me crazy, but it just didn’t seem like a
fun way to spend the day.”

  “Silly girl. They wouldn’t have eaten you.” Absently, he stroked his fingers through his hair, circling around one area, over and over again.

  My eyes flicked to it.

  He stopped stroking.

  “What am I to call you? You never did answer.”

  “Why didn’t you go in after them, Kit?” He swayed closer, his movement so liquid, he barely seemed human. “Why didn’t you do what you were told? What stopped you? Who aided you in South Carolina?”

  We locked in a staring contest that might have lasted…forever.

  Damon stepped between us.

  “You’re a stubborn bastard, aren’t you? Did you hear the statement from Banner? She was recovering from an injury.” He waited for a count of ten, holding the man’s eyes before he straightened.

  Chang gave him a polite nod and then moved to address the fake president. “You realize, of course, that the threats you’ve issued against my Alpha’s territory, his people, his lady…all of them have put you in a somewhat tenuous position.” Chang had his hands linked in front of him, his polite diplomat’s smile on his face. He could have been discussing the weather or his favorite sort of tea.

  “Tenuous. Tell me, do you know that I could come through your city and squash each one of you like bugs?”

  “Each one of us? What about all of us? Have you faced a united front before?” Chang looked amused now. “Do you know that if you come through, you’ll be facing over three thousand shifters and two thousand witches? Then there are the vampires you’ve pissed off. Amund…well, he isn’t pleased.”

  Emotion rippled over the other’s face like water over stone, and Chang tsked. “I take you didn’t consider that. Yes, they’ve all been made aware. The House of Witches has been advised. When and if you make it within ten miles of East Orlando, you can you expect the going to be much rougher than you previously expected. Each vampire house within two hundred miles of here has declared you persona non grata. You made Amund feel the fool and he is something of a name among vampires. Practically royalty. None of them will aid you and quite a few will throw every blockade they have to stop you should they see you coming.” Chang gestured to the media screen in general. “I appreciate your willingness to show your true face—both of them, naturally, will be shared and one of our contacts within the Wolf Pack was able to collect enough samples from Kit’s office so that a scent profile can be shared—odd, sir, but it would seem as though you were in the area far more recently than we were led to believe.”