Shadowed Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)

by J. C. Daniels

  “We are connected, niece. Your mother’s blood in my blood. You were in trouble and I knew. I came as quickly as I could, but…” She looked away. “The best I could do was watch as they dragged that soulless monster away.”

  How can you be strong enough...

  “I heard you. It was you telling me to eat. To stay strong. Wasn’t it?”

  Her level stare told me everything.

  “All this time,” I said, my voice ragged. “You’ve been watching me all this time?”

  “I made a promise.”

  I turned away, shoving the heels of my hands against my eyes. “What’s this promise? How did you know? Any of this? All of this? How did you know where to find me? Where I would be? And what is this crazy shit about my mother?”

  A heavy sigh escaped her. “We…we were told, Kitasa. That a day would come when she or I would have to take an assignment from the Nerai. That whichever one of us went wouldn’t come back. We knew the Nerai would be cruel—she was never kind, but losing Tris broke something in her. Out of all the children, the only two of us she…cared for were us. Tris and I. And it was the two of us that she always chose for the hardest assignments—proving ourselves, she told us, because one day, one of us would become the next Nerai.” Rana’s voice was scathingly cold. “She knew that likely one of the assignments could end in our death, but still she did it. And to lose Tris…it broke her.”

  Rana lifted her gaze to mine. “We were told, Kitasa. All of this. I knew you would come here…not this exact place, but I knew the general area and once I started looking, it was easy enough to find you.”

  “Told.” It was getting harder to breathe. “You were…told.”

  “Yes.” She said it so simply. But there was a message in her eyes, one that was anything but simple.

  I understood it, though. Somehow, I understood.

  Her eyes held a message for me and I knew.

  “Nova,” I whispered.

  I sensed the surprise from Chang and Damon but I couldn’t look away from Rana. “Did he tell you about Doyle, too? Is that why you kept giving him the side-eye?” I demanded. “Do you know who his mother is? Is he another promise…”

  The words trailed off, thought simply dying.

  A sickening sensation settled in my belly.

  Rana was no longer looking at me. Or anybody else. She stared down at her hands, her shoulders a hard, straight line.

  I needed to speak, to say something. But while I struggled to do so, the men behind me had no such problem. Chang muttered something in a language I didn’t understand, while Damon rose to his feet and paced around the table, coming to a stop by Rana.

  “You.”

  She flinched at the sound of his voice, although she had known he was there, standing so close.

  “It’s you.”

  Slowly, she lifted her head. Then she rose to stand before him. “As I said, I owe you a debt that can never be repaid. His father…he…I cared for him. He was a good man. I would have stayed with him, if I’d had the chance. But my life wasn’t my own.” Rana’s eyes moved to me.

  She’d been pregnant. I hadn’t known. How old would I have been? Seven? Eight?

  “When I heard his father had died, I didn’t know what I was going to do.” Rana snarled. “I knew I couldn’t leave him with her. Bringing him home was not an option. He couldn’t come to the Hall. Fanis had grown crueler, more insane. While she tormented Kitasa, she would have killed any child with shifter blood. I was torn. I had promised I would watch over my niece but there was my boy. Alone.”

  Damon’s eyes were glowing and he stared at Rana with a stone-like mask.

  She studied him in return. “But there was you. I knew of you. You took him. You said you’d care for him. I’d been watching you for a long time. I knew you’d keep him safe. And you have.”

  I was still stunned and trying to wrap my head around it. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  The boy who had stared up at me from out of that pit with the face of another boy—one who had tormented me, abused me, violated me—he looked so much like Rathi, the cousin I’d killed.

  “Doyle.”

  As though summoned by his name, he knocked on the door only a heartbeat after I spoke.

  Damon was caught off guard, so intent on Rana. Jerking his head up, he stared at the door before turning his attention to Chang.

  They knew it was him.

  They could likely tell by scent, but I just knew in my gut.

  Rana did as well. I could see the way something about her softened imperceptibly. Her hand flexed, as though gripping her sword. It was a nervous habit—one I recognized, and one I would have thought she’d have lost a long time ago.

  “Should I send him away?” Chang asked quietly. His eyes flicked to Rana. There was no question that they believed her. I could see that clearly.

  Damon straightened, still staring at the door. I was beyond surprised when he thoughtfully shook his head. “No.”

  Rana lifted her head and stared at Damon.

  “The kid would hate me if I kept this from him.” Aggravation was stamped all over him and he closed one hand into a fist before jabbing a finger at Rana. “But you haven’t answered her question.” Then he turned to me, holding my eyes.

  “Doyle,” Chang called out. “Give us another moment.”

  “We will not tell him.” She shook her head slowly. “Not today.”

  “You don’t want him to know?” The idea struck a terrible chord inside me. It came from losing my mother so young. Doyle had never known his mother—Rana—of all people. But better her than so many others.

  “It’s not that. Although whether or not he wants to know…” Rana shook her head and her eyes took on a distant look. “Because of…Nova, the past thirty years have been somewhat clear. I didn’t know everything, but I had some idea of what might come to pass—certain actions I knew I must take, certain roads I must avoid. But all of that stopped once I returned to Orlando this last time. He told me if I chose to come, I’d have to do it blindly and he could offer no aid.”

  Her mouth tightened and again, I knew the emotion.

  It was grief.

  Whatever the relationship she had with Nova, they’d been friends, of a sort.

  “He won’t survive this,” she said quietly. “He has never confirmed it, but I know the truth, nonetheless. He won’t survive it and I…I do not know what becomes of me once we leave here.” Then she glanced at Damon. “But Kit does survive. He saw that.”

  Rana turned and stared at the door. “If I do not live through this, then I’d rather not leave him with nothing more than what we have here. A few hurried questions and the anger I know he has inside him.”

  “It’s better than nothing,” I said, only now realizing how angry I was.

  “If I don’t survive it…Kit…then you may give him whatever explanation you want.” She looked at me then, her gaze solemn, steady. And sad. Then she slid her sword home and moved away from the table, taking a few steps toward me. “You asked why I watched. Tris and I…we talked, for weeks, months…it turned into years and there was no baby and we thought perhaps the half-crazed boy who’d approached us on an assignment had been wrong. She had no baby. I’d met no shifter. Then she came back from a journey—a long one. Gone almost six months…and she was expecting a babe. She clung to me, crying. We both knew. We had a choice to make. Did she go on the mission that would come before you were even five? Or did I?”

  Rana looked away. “Since I was fifteen, I’ve been lauded as one of the strongest our race has seen in decades, perhaps centuries. Tris was the lovely one, the agile one, the charmer. She was a fine warrior…but she was hot-headed and rash. She would never be one to lead. She was easy to love, your mother.” Rana wiped away a tear. “I think even Fanis loved her, as much as she was able. But Tris…no, she’d never lead. Her heart ruled her every action. And she knew it. She told me she would go. I argued with her, but in the end…we both knew who would have
the best chance of keeping you alive. If I kept you alive—”

  She stopped abruptly and I watched as her jaw clenched, teeth grinding together. “If you lived, then part of her did, too. If you lived, then Fanis lost. Some part of Tris would live on. So…she went. I stayed. And I swore I’d protect you as best as I was able. But we both knew there would be times when I couldn’t.”

  “So every time you took a beating, I watched.” Rana stared at me. “I had no right to look away. I couldn’t stop it, not without making her come down on you harder, not without risking her sending me away and leaving you even more vulnerable. Every time, she lifted a hand, I watched. And if I could have taken every blow, every beating, I would have.”

  Tears blurred my eyes. I staggered, feeling like I had to do something, say something.

  Damon steadied me and when I looked up, it was to find him staring at me, willing me his strength.

  “We need to let him in. We’ve plans to make,” Rana said curtly.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Doyle sensed the tension in the air. I wonder how much he had heard through the door. Chang had raised his voice when he called out earlier—and while the rooms were mostly soundproofed, if voices were loud enough, it was possible to pick up bits and pieces.

  He may have heard something and I could tell by the suspicion in his eyes that he knew something was going on, but he didn’t know the bones of it. That was obvious by the look he gave Rana.

  “I have news.” He stood in front of Damon, his face worried. “It’s about…him.”

  Damon started to jerk his head toward the table. But he stopped and headed over to the sitting area, settling on the wide couch. “Come on over here, Doyle.” He looked up and met my eyes, held them for a long moment. “The rest of you, too.”

  Rana lingered, trailing after the rest of us while Doyle dropped into the chair across from Damon. I sat down next to my lover, feeling the tension that radiated off him like the sun radiated warmth. Absently, he rested his hand on my back, his hand settling in that familiar up and down pattern.

  He was staring at Doyle, his gaze so intense, so penetrating that it began to unnerve Doyle. After several long, taut moments had passed, Doyle managed a tense smile. “Do I have something on my face, Alpha?”

  The Alpha managed to convey a whole world with just a single word.

  “Nah, kid. I taught you better than that, didn’t I?” Damon crooked a tired smile at him.

  Just like that, some of the strain in the air eased.

  Doyle glanced toward Rana, picking up on the shift that was taking place but before he could ask anything, Damon pinned him with a look.

  “What is it you know, Doyle?”

  “I’ve got a message—it’s for Kit, I think it’s pretty clear it was directed at the Clan, too.” Doyle rubbed at his jaw, his eyes flicking around the room. “There was a cat who came through about a year ago...Anderson?”

  Damon shook his head—then stopped and looked at Chang. “Wait, was that the wildcat? Black guy. Tall beanpole kind of guy?”

  “We did have a man who fit that description.” Chang came closer, eyes locking on Doyle. “He was an independent.”

  “Sounds right.” Damon started to lightly beat his fist on the arm of the couch. “We never did bring him in. I’d remember.”

  “No. He…left.” Yes. Chang frowned thoughtfully, dark eyes narrowing as he slipped through some mental file. “It’s been over eighteen months. He approached us not long after you took the old Alpha out. We were going to accept him. Strong, solid man. Quick thinker. Had left the clan when Annette was leading it. We would have been happy to take him in. Then he just disappeared. I thought perhaps he had change his mind. Some of the people remaining from the old guard where the sort he’d bumped heads with.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think he left, Chang.” Doyle pulled out a cell phone and passed it across the table to Damon. “At least not voluntarily.”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see the way Damon’s jaw went tight, the minute way his lashes stayed low, for just a fraction of a second too long. Then he looked at the phone.

  His hand tightened on it. The casing made a tiny sound and Damon loosened his grip before he passed it to Chang.

  “Where?” His voice was low, lethal.

  “Ah…Georgia.” He ran his tongue around his teeth and then glanced at me. “Over near a small town that pretty much died thanks to the war. Milledgeville. Most of him anyway.”

  Anger rose in the air like angry hornets, buzzing and stabbing needles at my skin.

  “Most?” Chang asked as Damon fell silent.

  “Yes.” He kept his eyes on Damon, though. “The message came from Nova, Alpha. He sent it a little while ago. Said the message looked to be for Kit. He also added that he’d be happy to handle it all himself but he’s picking up on some people who’ll be caught in the crossfire and he’d just as soon n0t take anybody out if he didn’t have to.”

  “I think we’re still waiting for you to expand on that most part,” I said. Turning to Chang, I held out my hand for the phone.

  His mouth tightened in distaste but he turned it over and moved around closer to Doyle. “Nova called you?”

  “Emailed. I’ve already forwarded the message onto you, but you won’t get much. When I tried to contact him back, the message went bouncing to hell and back. He’s already shut the account down.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Chang said, reaching into his coat pocket.

  “No.” Damon’s voice was pure, deadly menace. “Suit up, Chang. You’re going to Georgia.”

  After a brief pause, Chang gave a small nod. “Of course, Alpha.”

  Doyle surged upright. “I’m going, too.”

  “No.” Both Rana and Damon said it at the same time, although Rana’s voice was sharper, louder—practically a shout for her. Damon lifted a brow, staring her down and for once, she gave in and looked away.

  Doyle had his mouth open, the scorn in his eyes so hot it threatened to burn. But before he could say even a single word, Damon cut him off. “You’re not going, kid.”

  “What the hell?”

  “Watch your tone,” Damon said softly. “You’ve got more leeway with me than anybody else in the Clan ever has or ever will. But no matter how much I love you, kid, you’re an adult and you asked to take a position here. That means…” Damon leaned forward. “You follow orders.”

  Doyle’s eyes flashed hot blue. He could shift into a white tiger and unlike most of the cats, his irises didn’t make much of a color change with his shift, but the glowing was an indicator of anger.

  But he sucked it under control.

  “Are you sending her?” He didn’t look at Rana, but there was no question who he was referring to.

  Rana’s expression didn’t change.

  “I’m sending the best team I can. And what I do, who I send, doesn’t concern you.” Damon nodded to the door. “You should get back to Scott. We’ve got planning to do.”

  “But—”

  Chang intercepted, stepping up to clap Doyle on the shoulder. “Come on.” He walked him to the door, talking in a low voice. Doyle’s spine was rigid and we all knew that whatever Chang was saying fell on deaf years.

  I stared at him over the phone, the images of what had once been a man burnt forever into my head.

  Feeling Damon’s eyes on me, I slowly looked up.

  “You think I should let him go?”

  “I think you have to handle your people, Damon.” I shook my head and focused back on the phone. “Doyle’s one of yours until he decides he isn’t—and I don’t see that happening.”

  The first image showed a man’s arm, from just below the shoulder, stretched out with the finger pointing to something off in the distance. It wasn’t immediately obvious that the arm had been removed with near surgical neatness from the rest of the body.

  It had, though.

  I tapped the picture and watched as a message came up next to it.
r />   This was the first part of him found. Note the rest of the images. We’ve got ourselves a sick piece of shit.

  A sick piece of shit.

  Yeah. The hand had forced into a fist, index finger extended.

  It was pointing in the vague direction of Milledgeville. Fifty miles down the road was the next piece of Anderson, although how they knew it was him, I had yet to figure that out.

  This time, it was the torso and one leg. And one of those little toy shopping carts that children liked to play with. There was a doll, too, tucked inside the ruin of Anderson’s body—and her poseable hand pointed in the same direction.

  Come and play, the message was telling us.

  I got the message, loud and clear.

  The body parts came closer together after that and the messages more violent. There was a set of eyes, ripped out of the rightful owner and shoved into the open mouth of a teenaged girl. I don’t know if she was human, shifter or witch, but she sat tucked up against a tree like a broken doll, her head tied to the trunk and her mouth grotesquely open.

  The eyes were stabbed through the middle, holding them in place on her tongue and she stared straight ahead. There was a three-sixty degree shot that showed she was staring a sign that read, Milledgeville. The sign was ancient and covered in moss, rust making it almost impossible to read.

  I knew without a doubt that the eyes were Anderson’s—and that he’d been a guest inside Blackstone.

  The whites were blood red, destroyed. Evidence of whatever they’d been using to mind-wipe them or to control them, like they’d done with Chaundry.

  The rest of him was outside the abandoned remains of a massive building.

  “I know that place,” Chang said quietly. “It’s where I was tracking all the energy diversions.”

  Damon said nothing so I looked at him.

  “Massive amounts of energy, all pouring in there. For no reason. It’s been abandoned for years—was used as a hospital for the mentally ill before there was a…reform in how humans treated their fellow citizens with mental issues. Like leaving so many of them homeless and wandering the streets.” Chang’s lip curled.