Shadowed Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)

by J. C. Daniels

  Those bizarre, oversized blue eyes narrowed.

  “As for the Clan and the Pack…well, you’ve been given a particular name. You likely don’t want to know the name that has been given to you among the shifters.” Chang adjusted the cuffs of his jacket—he must have a room here, because the jacket fit him too well to not be his. “It makes meat sound like a friendly nickname.”

  “Indeed.” His gaze flicked to me. “All of this over you, Kit. You must be quite pleased.”

  “All of this over a man who attempted to manipulate a friend of the Clan, over a man who kidnapped two more friends of the Clan, a man who is behind numerous other disappearances and has connections to Blackstone,” Chang said, correcting him. “Seriously, have you not paid attention?”

  Connections—

  I shifted my focus to Chang.

  That was a new one.

  Rage started to pulse and brew inside me as I looked back at the screen, at him. Blue eyes narrowed, locked on Chang, dismissing me entirely. What had he found? What had we missed?

  Blackstone—was this all about Blackstone to begin with?

  “You overstep yourself, boy.”

  The angry, low growl sent a shiver through me.

  “Perhaps.” Chang studied his well-manicured hand and flicked at a speck of lint on the lapel of his suit. “But at least my sin is arrogance and not foolishness or stupidity. You, on the other hand, assumed you would never be noticed and you didn’t hide your tracks well. Not well at all.” He left the comment open-ended, smirking a bit before turning his attention to Damon. “Sir, do you require anything else?”

  “I think we’re done here.” Damon leaned forward.

  “Wait.”

  “I’m the Alpha. I don’t listen to demands from anybody.”

  There was a heavy bang that emanated from somewhere close to the man masquerading as president, then another. It sounded like a series of knocks, pounding on a door.

  The muffled sir…, sir…carried well enough.

  “Sounds like you’ve got some people wanting to talk to you,” Damon said, a familiar, cagey grin curling his lips.

  “Yeah. I think you’re being summoned.” Waggling my fingers at him, I said, “If you kill too many on the way out, they’ll stick their bulldogs on your ass. And the more you kill…well. The more they’ll put after you. You might want to just disappear. Vamonos.”

  “You and I, girl…we’re not done.” He leaned forward and in a low, heated whisper said, “I’ll rip your throat out, precious. It’s a pity, really. I said I’d deliver you alive and I meant to do just that. Tit for tat, as the saying goes. Of course, I was led to believe you might be somewhat useful. Since you’ve outlived your usefulness, I think I’ll just take the rest of it out on your miserable ass. Enjoy your last days on earth.”

  He straightened and stared at Damon for a long moment and then slid his eyes to Chang. “Gentlemen.”

  There was a crash.

  I heard wood buckle.

  And the man the world had only recently been known as Mr. President straightened. He seemed to melt in on himself, then faded. Within seconds, we were staring at a vivid pair of blue eyes that flashed even brighter for a moment. The last thing I heard was his voice as he murmured, “I’ll see you soon, Kitasa.”

  Then the line went dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Guerilla News wasn’t the only network running wild with speculation now.

  Rumors ran rampant in the Capitol, but after twelve hours of no statement, somebody finally did speak.

  He was understandably grave and somber-eyed as he addressed the nation, calling on people from all walks of life—human and non-human—to come forward in this time of tragedy. Our president is missing. While there have been some concerning reports in the past twenty-four hours, we do not know the truth behind them and now, we cannot even begin to uncover the truths. Why? Because of a vile, violent attack here in the White House that left one of the president’s most trusted friends dead…and now our president is missing...

  “Blah, blah, blah...”

  Turning my back to the screen, I paced over to the window and stared outside.

  The sun was setting.

  It had been hours since everything seemed to have gone to hell in a handbasket. Nova had left for Georgia and I hadn’t heard from him. There was no change with Justin or Colleen.

  I’d tried contacting my long-lost aunt earlier. Long-lost probably wasn’t the right word. I was the one who’d been long lost and quite happy with it. She hadn’t returned the call.

  That was a shoe waiting to drop.

  The door opened and just that light noise had my hand moving to my sword.

  Damon lifted a straight black brow as I stood there, squeezing the grip of my blade, heart pounding. “Jumpy,” he noted.

  “A bit.”

  He ran his tongue across his teeth as he stood there. “Doyle left the Lair earlier.”

  “What? He—”

  “He’s fine.” Damon held up a hand, cutting me off. “He called me a few minutes ago. Said he’s bringing somebody in who needs to speak with you, and told me that I should probably talk to you first.”

  Oh.

  Heat kindled in my hand and I lowered my head to stare at the floor.

  Although he didn’t make a sound as he moved toward me, I could feel him coming. His boots stopped just a few inches from mine and he reached up, placing his hands on my shoulders. I sighed and swayed forward until my head bumped his chest.

  “I get the feeling this has something to do with that favor you conned out of me.”

  “Yeah.” Slowly, I lifted my head and met his eyes. At the same time, I reached up and gripped his wrists. “You’re not going to like it.”

  “I’m already figuring that out.” Tugging his wrists free, he caught my waist and boosted me up onto the nearest counter. “If you plan on telling me that you’re heading out to go look for Mr. Pseudo-POTUS, you’re out of your mind and I will keep you here if I have to sit on you.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I leaned in. I bit his lip but that just made him catch my chin in his hand and he kissed me, hard and fast.

  “Relax, Tarzan. I’m still trying to figure out what he is.” With a sardonic smile, I added, “Besides, I’m pretty sure he is going to come to me. You and Chang pretty much laughed in his face. He won’t let that go ignored.”

  “Nice to know. We were afraid we were too subtle.”

  “You wouldn’t know subtle if it bit you on the ass.” Reaching up, I curled my hand in the faded front of his T-shirt. “I told you once—you’d walk into hell for me.”

  “And walk right back out, holding the devil’s head. Are you bringing the devil into my Lair, Kit?” He hooked an arm around my neck, angling my head back so I couldn’t look away.

  The timing, really, couldn’t have been more perfect.

  Just as I was trying to figure out how to start, there was a knock at the door. Damon turned his head, opening his mouth.

  Then he stopped, a frown appearing—a deep line formed a groove between his eyebrows. As he turned away, I slid off the bar. Carefully, I took my sword from the sheath.

  He glanced at me, watched as I put it down, that frown still darkening his features.

  “Come on in, Doyle,” he said, nostrils flaring wide as he scented the air.

  Doyle came in. She was with him, clad once more in that dappled gray that seemed to blend into anything, everything and nothing.

  Once more, my aunt Rana was slumped and stooped, making her seem slower, older. Under the concealing hood, I saw the glitter of her eyes as she looked at me for the briefest second.

  Then she sidestepped, creating a wide space between her and Doyle.

  Doyle started toward her, but she held up a hand, staying him.

  I moved toward Damon, although he was already closing the distance, and fast.

  Rana didn’t back down, but then again, I don’t think she’d ever backed down from an
ything in her life.

  “Hello, Alpha Lee,” she said, not bothering to disguise her voice.

  “Do I know you?” he asked.

  Rana glanced at me and then, in an oddly feline movement, she uncurled from that slump, reaching up to tug back her hood revealing her face, her hair.

  “We have a common…bond, you might say.”

  Every muscle inside him tensed.

  I barely got in front of him in time.

  “Don’t,” I said, hating the plea that came into my voice as I reached for him, sinking my nails into his shoulders.

  “Not this,” he said, staring right through me. “I’ll do a lot of things for you, be a lot of things. Ask me for anything else, Kit. But not this.”

  “We wouldn’t have made it to Justin and Colleen without her.” I caught his shirt again, wishing I could dig into his flesh somehow, force him to be still. “They are alive because she helped us. Helped me.”

  “And how many times did she hurt you? Which one is she, Kit? One of the cousins or aunts who stood by? Is she your fucking grandmother? The one who beat you?”

  “My aunt. My aunt Rana. She never beat me.”

  “Child, step aside. I don’t need your protection,” Rana said from behind me.

  I ignored her. “Damon, listen to me.”

  Instead, he picked me up and set me aside. “Doyle.”

  He shuffled his feet and moved closer. I darted around to Damon’s other side, keeping his big body between us.

  “Kit…” Doyle gave me a look that was both apology and commiseration.

  “No!”

  Damon had pushed past me.

  Instinct screamed inside and I simply opened my mind to one of the songs, always so loud now.

  It was the drumbeat that echoed in my blood, and I let the bow and arrow come.

  I had the target picked out just before Damon would have reached Rana and I let go, listening to the music—the music of the bowstring, the music in my blood.

  Rana saw it and she ducked, diving forward and tucking into a ball; the same move she’d taught to me, executed flawlessly.

  The arrow went past Damon’s shoulder and buried itself in the wall.

  For a second, nobody moved.

  Damon’s shoulders heaved as he sucked in a breath.

  “She did something else, too.”

  Slowly, he turned. His eyes slid to the bow in my hand. Then to the sword.

  “She helped me save Colleen. She helped me save Justin.” I panted, staring at him over the arrow now nocked. The bow was between us…but not a barrier. A symbol. “She gave me the music back. Damon…please.”

  There was a knock.

  Polite, short, clipped.

  Nobody moved or breathed.

  The knock came again.

  “Doyle. Answer the door,” Damon said, each word low and tight, squeezed out as though through a vise.

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  Rana turned her head, eyes lingering on Doyle as she remained there in her crouch, one hand braced on the floor in front of her.

  “Get up,” Damon said on a snarl.

  Then he spun to me, his jaw set.

  “This…this is what you want.” His breaths came in ragged pants as he crossed to me and there was hell in his eyes.

  Slowly, I lowered the bow I still held. It was the one he’d bought for me in the days, hours really, before we’d found Doyle. I’d known him maybe a week and he’d changed everything for me. It was stupid and foolish and wonderful, but I’d found someplace where I belonged—somebody who wanted me.

  And now I was betting everything on the fact that he understood me.

  I’d been broken inside for so long. Even before Jude kidnapped me, even before the bond with my weapons was shattered. I’d been broken from years of abuse at my grandmother’s hands. Broken bones alone hadn’t done it, but the hatred that came from her, the way others turned their back when she beat me.

  Others…a memory flickered in my mind and I locked on it. I’d have to ask. But not now.

  Over the past year, I’d been piecing myself together, learning who I was without the weapons and I’d finally figured things out—I was myself, whether I could call them or not.

  I didn’t need to be able to call a bow to master it, and I didn’t need to hear a blade’s song to wield it.

  But I sure as hell wanted those things back.

  Holding his eyes, I banished the bow he’d given me and called my sword to my hand.

  His lids flickered.

  “When I was in Tallahassee, Justin and I met up with a…very strange woman,” I said thickly. “She was…strange. Scary. She healed people. She cured cancer, Damon. Justin saw it and you can’t fool a witch, baby. Not like that. Then she put her hands on me, and for a minute…” I lifted a shoulder. “Well, I thought she might have fixed me. But nothing happened. I think it hurt Justin more than it hurt me. Then there we were in the woods, trying to move in on where Justin and Colleen were—and there was Rana. I thought she was there to kill me or worse…take me back.”

  Damon’s eyes went straight to gold and the muscles in his face shifted, rippled. He battled the monster within, cracking his neck and popping his knuckles, but I could see the grip he had on control slipping. So tenuous.

  “The first time I called my blade, I was terrified, afraid for my life…my sanity.” I shifted her now, watched as the light danced on her surface. She murmured to me softly in the back of my mind, a gentle, soothing song. “Rana pushed me to that point again—on purpose.”

  I slid in front of him, keeping up with him far more easily than I would’ve thought possible. “On purpose, Damon. And it wasn’t my sword I called. She brought something else.”

  I called the shield then and it settled on my arm, fitting there perfectly. “The last time I saw this shield was when I’d been called in front of my grandmother.” Curling my lip, I met his eyes. “But the first time…I don’t even remember. I was young, probably not much more than a baby. It was my mother’s. Rana stole him and brought him here. For me. You are not going to fight her, Damon.”

  He reached up, shoving a hand into my hair.

  He cranked my head back to an almost brutal angle.

  Dimly, I was aware that Chang had come into the room and we were now the focus of three people.

  “That breaking point is getting damn close again, Kit,” he said, pressing his mouth close to my ear. “You can’t keep pushing like this.”

  I sucked in a breath and when he stepped away, I had to lock my knees to keep from wilting.

  I ended up having to slam a hand against the table to keep upright as Chang and Damon shared a telling look.

  Doyle moved closer to me while Rana stood alone, unfazed.

  “Well,” Chang said softly. “What unusual company you’ve been keeping, Kit. Tell me, madam…are there more of your kind coming?”

  “Hardly.” Rana gave him a cool smile before dismissing him, looking around with patent curiosity. “So this is where a king of cats makes his home. Interesting.”

  Damon’s jaw worked and I could hear his teeth grinding together but Chang moved toward him, drawing his attention. “As interesting as this all is, I received a message that I believe needs to be addressed.”

  “What is it?” Damon asked.

  “It was directed at Kit, but it’s clear we were all meant to hear it.”

  He hesitated, eying Rana.

  “She stays where I can see her until I decide what to do about her,” Damon said flatly.

  “Of course.” Chang’s eyes narrowed and I got a feeling he had a suggestion or two.

  Staring him straight in the eye, I banished the sword.

  “As I said, Kit…interesting.” He moved to the table and placed a phone down a docking device. “Replay message.”

  A moment later, the media screen came to life.

  It was just text, though.

  No audio or video. Just a few pointed words.

  Just
how many cats will I have to kill to get a kitten? Shall we play a game and find out or will you just save us all the trouble? Call me, precious. Don’t make me wait too long. You won’t like the results.

  My nails tore neat little half-moons into my palms as I stared at the number that came up.

  “Call it,” Damon ordered.

  Feeling sick, I turned to him. “Damon—”

  “If you even suggest turning yourself over to him, Kit, I’ll have you locked in here for the duration.” Damon turned his head, his gray eyes half-wild. “Now, I know what that idea will probably do to you. And I know if I did it, it would spell the end of us. But I’ll live with that. I can’t live with the idea of you trying to sacrifice yourself. So don’t ask me. Just don’t.”

  The phone on the table rang.

  “Nobody in the Clan would allow it, Kit,” Chang said quietly. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “I’d follow you.” Doyle bumped his shoulder against mine. “You know I can.”

  I felt sick.

  The phone rang two more times.

  The screen flared to life.

  “Well, hello, precious.” The blue-eyed, devilish looking man smiled at me as he leaned forward. “I got the whole lot of you sorry creatures.”

  “Oh, just shove a knife in me.” Rana’s caustic voice echoed from the far side of the room.

  The man on the screen stilled. His features did that odd, water over stone dance and he blinked, reaching up to rub at his scalp. I saw them then.