Shadowed Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)

by J. C. Daniels

  Small, almost delicate horns, curving up from his scalp.

  “Shit,” I whispered, hardly noticing as Rana strode forward.

  Damon started to snarl.

  Chang rested a hand on his arm, a quiet, subtle…wait…

  “It’s you.” My aunt stared at the man on the screen with something that could only be described as complete and utter scorn. “I should have known.”

  “Well, if it isn’t the sword-hand of the wicked bitch of the east.” He leaned in, the surprise I’d seen on his face gone now. “What’s the matter, love? Did Fanis lose faith in me?”

  “That would mean she faith you to begin with.” Rana flipped the heavy weight of her braids over her shoulder. “But really, I would be a bad person to ask since I’ve rather lost faith in her. The job I’m on now is proof of that. Only the truly deluded would think it wise.”

  “Hmmm…and are you on a job or hiding from her, then? Does she know where you are, dearest?” His gaze slid to me. “Cozying up to one cast out from the family?”

  “Tut-tut. I don’t discuss family matters with things like you.” Rana gave him a scornful look. “I’m curious about something, Rob. What’s a puck like yourself doing running errands for her anyway? I wouldn’t have thought you to be an errand boy.”

  A muscle in his jaw worked. “Bad form, Rana. Very, very bad form.”

  “What…you are running an errand for her. Gone to fetch the wayward stray back home and all.” Then Rana smiled, a sly one and she lifted a finger, pressed it to her chin. “Oh, wait…maybe you had a trick or two up your sleeve and she only thinks you’re playing her game. You’re still angry, though. What’s the matter, Rob? Did I let the cat out of the bag? Had Kitasa not figured it out? Well, pity. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve found her to be quite clever and what with the horns showing…”

  Rob…Puck…

  My mind was whirling as his blue eyes clashed with mine.

  Rob—

  Robin!

  The horns vanished even as the pieces fell together in my mind, precious few though they were.

  “Robin Goodfellow. Huh.” As his face went redder, I pursed my lips. “I didn’t know you were real.”

  “Oh, I’m very real, Kitasa.”

  My name sounded like a snake’s hiss on his lips and the unblinking way he stared at me was unnerving to say the least.

  Something about that stare was jarring, penetrating. He was trying to see inside my soul—

  Rana kicked my ankle. Hard.

  Sucking in air, I looked over at her, but she was staring blithely at Rob, that faint, almost-smile on her lips.

  My throat had gone tight and dry and my heart was racing. Falling on the old tricks Damon had been using to help me control it, I let Rana talk a moment.

  Something cold touched my arm.

  “You should drink something.” Chang was studying me closely. He’d realized something wasn’t right. “You’re still healing up.”

  I accepted the water he offered and took a sip before looking back at the screen.

  “Yes, Kit. Heal. I want you to fully appreciate the gutting I’m going to give you.” He stroked the spot where one of the horns had previously been visible as he eyed me and I could feel that pull on my brain as he tried again, trying to do whatever he’d done. It didn’t work though. I refused to let his eyes connect with mine for more than a second. It wasn’t too much different from looking at a vampire. Some of them could pull you in with just a flick of their gaze. I’d just treat the puck here the same way.

  “Does Fanis know you’ve decided to sidestep your agreement? You won’t ever get that spear you covet so dearly.” Rana looked bored. “You’ve failed to honor your word and you know how she dislikes that.”

  “Hmmm. Perhaps you could get it. After all, there is no love lost between you and your mother.” He tapped his brow, leaning forward. “I see it. You know this.”

  “True enough.” Rana shrugged. “But as little regard as I have for her, I have even less desire to put a Druidic spear of untold power in your hands. You want it too much. That’s never a good thing with your kind, puck.”

  “Are you certain? A woman like you, I could make a fine trade. I’ve weapons the likes of which this world will never see again. Blades so beautiful, they’d make you weep. All I want is one paltry wooden spear.”

  “Don’t you have enough Druid-made weapons?” Rana flicked her fingers, brushing the topic aside. Holding his eyes, she lifted her short sword and rotated it so it caught the light. “The weapons I need, I have. Of course, you don’t need your weapons, do you? You just need them out of the reach of others.”

  “I’m merely a collector, Rana.” He smiled sharp, shifting his attention to me. “Make your good-byes, precious. And your apologies. I’ll leave a trail of blood in my wake.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The second the line went dead, eyes locked in on Rana, save for Damon.

  He came to me and one by one, everybody else turned to look at him.

  “You have one, don’t you, kitten?”

  My heart had started to hammer again and this time, I didn’t bother to control it. I could hear it whispering now. Blood, death and tears, a sad song underscored by the bittersweet wail of what might have been pipes.

  “Ah…”

  “One what?” Doyle asked.

  “That’s one of the weapons you had me lock up.” He stopped in front of me, arms crossed over his wide chest, eyes gleaming.

  “Well, well.” Rana circled, a look of pensive interest on her face. It was the most emotion I had seen from her in probably my entire life. “Do you indeed?”

  “She’s mine.” The whisper of her song became a little louder in my head.

  “A Druid’s weapon isn’t like a knife you pick up at a market or some pretty bow,” Rana said. “You might be able to wield it, but you can’t master it unless it lets you. How did you come by it?”

  “Why are you asking?” The challenge in my voice made her smile grow.

  “Haven’t you wondered why it matters to him? He killed the Black Anni. He hunted a dryad. He killed a Green Man.”

  “There was no Green Man.”

  “Not now. He killed him. The dead woods—nothing kills a forest like that except destroying the Green Man who cares for it.” Rana pursed her lips as she studied me. “You should know these things.”

  “Yeah, well, my education was sort of lacking.”

  “Yes. It was.” She came closer. When Damon tensed, she stilled. “They are all connected, Kit.”

  “I’m gathering that—now tell me why. And how did you know about the Black Anni, the dryad, the Green Man. How did you find me to begin with?”

  “I’ve always known where you were.” She delivered the statement with calm finality. “I knew you would come here years before you even ran. But that isn’t what matters. What matters is dealing with Rob, before he causes too much trouble. If he mucks things up too much, Fanis will figure out where he is—and then she’ll figure out where you are. I spent too much time concealing that fact. I’d rather it all not go to waste now.”

  I felt like she’d just hit me in the head with a sledgehammer.

  “You knew.”

  She inclined her head. “Indeed. Now…let’s discuss your weapon.”

  Chang stayed between us on the walk down to the basement.

  More than a few emerged to look at Rana, but one look from Damon sent them back to wherever they’d come from.

  The Lair practically hummed with life, with the energy that pulsed inside shifters.

  It was large enough to house almost the entire Clan now, and I suspected he’d pulled in just about all of them.

  He wouldn’t take chances.

  My mind kept spinning from odd little details like…is there enough food here to what’s the deal with Druidic weapons to I never got around to drinking my tea.

  “Jada.”

  Damon’s voice snapped me back into focus
and I caught sight of the tall, thin black woman standing at attention across from the room where I stored my more dangerous weapons. She nodded at Damon, her gaze glancing off Rana before coming to me. I also received one of those polite nods before she greeted Chang and Doyle.

  There were tight lines around her eyes. “Are you okay?” I asked, remembering how being near the weapons had affected Shanelle.

  “Oh, yeah. This is about as much fun as telling my mom I’d been bitten.” Her mouth tugged in a humorless smile. “But I’m handling it.”

  Doyle’s face was tight. “Man, what do you have in there, Kit?”

  “Stuff. You don’t get to mess with it,” I said.

  Moving to the warded door of my new weapons room, I swiped my hands down my pants, the power coming off the protection spells stinging my skin.

  “Are you trying to tell the world something powerful is hiding inside?” Rana asked, the question almost clinical.

  “I’ve already told him he needs to tone it down.” Giving her a quelling look, I opened the door. “You need to stay out here. You’re not…part of this place.”

  “I already guessed as much.” She studied the door, the darkness of the room inside. “You hired a fool to do this.”

  Damon narrowed his eyes at her. “It will do enough harm if I shove you inside, I bet. Want to try it out?”

  “I think I’ll pass.” She took one step back.

  I withdrew the bow and nothing else. She hummed—the moment I touched her, she hummed, coming to life in my hand like never before.

  “Wow.” The jolt of power that went up my arm was unlike anything I’d ever known and her music was loud enough to drown out the insidious call from the blade, Death.

  “What else do you have in there?” Rana asked, her mouth drawing down in a tight line. “Something foul. I can taste it.”

  “Something foul.” I said nothing else as I left the room, striding out and shutting the door tight.

  The moment the door closed, Death’s demanding cry faded and the muscles in my shoulders relaxed.

  But the bow…she continued to talk to me.

  I couldn’t understand the words, but the message was clear.

  “Oh, what a love you have there,” Rana murmured, coming closer.

  I flicked a look to her face. There was none of the avarice I felt when I spied a weapon that I wanted, though. Just appreciation. She reached out, slowly, giving me time to back away. When I didn’t, she stroked a finger down the carved wood. “Where did you find her?”

  “I killed a man. He had her locked away in a safe.”

  “Hmmm.” Her eyes gleamed. “Was she his?”

  “I don’t think so. He wasn’t her maker and she wasn’t…happy there. She was in bad shape and he hadn’t cleaned her or used her. I had to restring her, fix her up. The only thing I’ve ever done is practice with her.” It felt strange to be talking about this with Rana, strange to be doing it here with the cats stretching out around me in a half-circle while she faced me.

  “She’s made you her own. She’ll let you master her. She’ll answer to you if you try to call her. But you’ll have to show care, Kit. Druids bond with their weapons almost like we do…and Druids sometimes carried madness in their blood.” There was warning in her words, in her eyes. She let her hand fall away from the bow and she backed up.

  “What is it with Druidic weapons and the puck?” I asked.

  Now Rana smiled and it was one that sent shivers up my spine. “Well, that is a question, isn’t it? I could say it’s because pucks are greedy, covetous demons and they love the rare and unusual. It’s true enough, and a Druid’s bow like that is rare indeed.”

  “But…” She looked around. “Let’s not discuss it here.”

  Back in our quarters, Damon, Rana and I sat at the table. Chang stood at Damon’s shoulder, back in his preferred spot.

  I guess they had decided they were good, or that they’d work things out after this was over.

  Doyle had been dismissed, though.

  Doyle had sputtered, acting like the kid he still was under all that muscle.

  “There are more still coming in. Scott will need a hand keeping this many shifters under control. I don’t have enough enforcers out there to contain the numbers we’re going to have you.” Damon narrowed his eyes. “Walk around and growl at them instead of trying to argue with me.”

  Doyle hadn’t been happy, but he’d left.

  The only reason the attitude hadn’t gotten him in trouble was because he was just as much Damon’s son as anything else, and Damon gave him a short amount of leeway—very short.

  Now, three of us sat at the table, Chang a silent shadow at Damon’s shoulder while the bow lay in front of us like some bizarre, arcane table decoration.

  “You want to know why he killed the Anni, the Green Man…why he had you hunting the dryad.” Rana looked up from the bow and met my eyes. “It’s because they can sense things, locate them. Not unlike us. And the Black Anni hoarded things that created death. I imagine he found something with them. The Green Man and the dryad, they were attuned to things of nature and the Druids forged their weapons from nature. Stone, wood. Even their few rare steel weapons had as much of the earth in them as anything else. Their magic was earth magic and the Green Man and the dryad, they would have sensed such.”

  “So you think he killed the Anni, the Green Man, to keep them from locating more weapons?” I touched my hand to the bow.

  “I think the Anni had more and he took them. The Green Man wouldn’t help him. I’ve known Green Men before, Kitasa. They are as unyielding as an oak tree, their roots just as deep. One of them would die before helping a trickster like that puck.”

  “The dryad.” I remembered the misery in her voice. “She mentioned somebody. His name was Albus.”

  “A lover, perhaps. Dryads often mated with Green Men.” Rana stroked the bow again. “This weapon is a weakness to him, Kit. He doesn’t know you have it?”

  “I don’t see how he could.” A cold knot of fear settled in my gut. Haltingly, I forced myself to ask the question. “He’s been hunting me…for Fanis?” At her nod, I pushed myself again. “For how long?”

  “Oh, not long. A few months.” She flicked a hand. “He’s been playing this game of his—you were just some small part, likely an amusing game to him at first. I think manipulating Mother was the same. A game. She had something he wanted, another way that could weaken him and he needed it removed before he made his next big play. You didn’t even come into the picture until she returned from the…”

  She stopped.

  Damon lifted his gaze from the bow to stare at her.

  “The Dominari.” My entire face felt stiff. I knew what time of year it was. We were moving into the first edges of fall here. They would be moving into the first edges of spring, but winter there had an iron grip. “How many died this time?”

  “None. A few serious injuries. But fewer run every year.” Rana stared at me stonily. “You never would have survived.”

  “That was the whole point.”

  Damon’s eyes, the weight of his fury, slammed into me but I didn’t dare look at him.

  “It’s all old history, though. The puck went there. Why?”

  “He’s gathering those he might call upon as…allies,” Rana said, a sick smile twisting her face. “He’s priming this country for another war, one that will leave few humans standing, niece. Once he is done here, he will move on to the next country—likely Mexico, because unrest is rampant there and your neighbors to the north seem more tolerant than others in the world. Once he has the numbers, he will turn on Canada. Then he will spread out, annihilating as many as he can.”

  Chilled to the bone, I searched her face for any sign that she might be exaggerating, might be lying. I saw none. “Please tell me that Fanis isn’t that crazy yet.”

  “Oh, she’s crazy enough. But unfortunately for the puck, she’s not stupid enough. She remembers war, Kitasa. It never goes
well for either side, and our race numbers only in the hundreds now. She’s not going to send them off to die in a war for some demon as crazy as she is.”

  “He’s a…” My jaw tightened. “Pucks are demons?”

  Leaning in, Rana said, “Some people in England still call them hobgoblins. Yes, Kitasa. Pucks are minor demons. Of course, there are even older stories that ascribe them to the fallen.”

  “The fallen.” I blinked at her, confused.

  “Fallen angels,” Chang murmured, speaking for the first time since we’d returned. “I’ve heard some of those stories. The war in heaven—angels fell. Some sided with Satan, but others were locked in battle and when it ended, they just didn’t make it back in time. Those who sided with the devil became the minor demons, while those who didn’t make it back became the fey.”

  “Those would be the stories.” Rana’s tone didn’t indicate whether Chang was right or not. Her gaze came to mine. “You might be more familiar with the modern myths—the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were quite popular with human storytellers for a long while. But the true stories…they go much, much deeper. And they are much, much older. And nothing you’ll find anywhere can prepare for anything like Robin, the puck king. He wants to rise to his former glory.”

  Judging by the grim set of her shoulders, that wasn’t something we wanted. “How do we stop him?”

  Rana put her hand on the bow and pushed it closer. “There is no we. It’s going to have to be you. The bow has chosen you. If you hadn’t bonded with her, I would do it.” Her mouth tightened. “This will come with risk, you must know that. But if he isn’t killed, he will hunt you. If he isn’t killed, he will find a new way to start his war. This...”

  She paused, her eyes darkening. “Hospital. I’ve heard you speak of it. I know there are disappearances. I’ve been in these lands long enough to know things aren’t as they should be. And the witch you killed. She didn’t act on her own—her mind wasn’t even her own. She was driven.”

  I could see the wheels turning in her mind, realized she was making the connections I sometimes made; the little leaps from one thing to another. I could all but see the pieces as they fell together for her.