Shadowed Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)
Page 28
That is one problem I plan to rectify. Do not let your guard down.
Damon took the note after I’d finished reading it. As I turned away, there was a knock at the door and I moved to open it.
Doyle came in, looking young and fit and strong enough to take on the world.
Unfinished business.
“How’s Colleen, Justin?” His eyes searched mine and I could see the worry, knew it was real.
“That’s a loaded question.” With a weak smile, I gestured for him to come inside. From the corner of my eye, I saw Damon fold the letter, tuck it inside a small box on our dresser. “You want to call down to the kitchen for a pizza or something? We’ll talk about it.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He lifted a shoulder as he paced around a little, looking restless. His eyes bounced around the room for a few seconds before he turned and looked at me. “Where’s your aunt?”
“Taking care of some business.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, he looked disappointed.
“But she’ll be back, I think.”
This time I wasn’t mistaken. A gleam of speculation glinted in his eyes…and a hint of a smile.
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A Note To Readers
Thanks for your patience on this one…I know you waited longer than normal. Some of you are aware that I’ve been dealing with health issues and I didn’t want to rush things and put out a book that just wasn’t up to par.
I knew for a while I’d be bringing Kit’s family into things and I also knew that at least one of them wasn’t going to be a total troll. After all, somebody cared enough to give her the foundation she built her skills on.
Also…while there’s nothing on my site yet…nooooo…
This isn’t the last book.
Now…if you wanna know more about Frankie and what happened with her and Kit? Read on.
Bio
J.C. Daniels is the pen name of author Shiloh Walker.
Shiloh Walker has been writing since she was a kid. She fell in love with vampires with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more…ah…serious works of fiction. She loves reading and writing anything paranormal, anything fantasy, and nearly every kind of romance. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest. She writes romantic suspense and contemporary romance, and urban fantasy as J.C. Daniels. You can find her at Twitter or Facebook and read more about her work at her website. Sign up for her newsletter and have a chance to win a monthly giveaway.
More JC Daniels’ Titles
Blade Song #1
Night Blade #2
Broken Blade #3
Edged Blade #4
A Stroke of Dumb Luck (Tor)
Bladed Magic (A Kit Colbana Novella)
Misery’s Way (A Kit Colbana Novella)
Final Protocol
Look for other titles by J.C.’s other half, Shiloh Walker
The Grimm
Urban Fantasy Romance
Candy Houses • No Prince Charming • Crazed Hearts
Tarnished Knight • Locked in Silence • Grimm Tidings
Blind Destiny • Furious Fire
The Ash Trilogy
If You Hear Her • If You See Her • If You Know Her
The Secrets & Shadows Series
Burn For Me • Break For Me • Long For Me
Deeper Than Need • Sweeter Than Sin • Darker Than Desire
The FBI Psychics
The Missing • The Departed • The Reunited
The Protected • The Unwanted • The Innocent
The Hunters
Paranormal Romance
Hunting the Hunter • Hunters: Heart and Soul • Hunter’s Salvation
Hunter’s Need • Hunter’s Fall • Hunter’s Rise
And more
Misery’s Way
“Have you scouted out the next spot?”
Saleel lifted one shoulder. “Yes. Montana. I tire of the heat.”
“Montana?” I grimaced and mentally shuddered. Summer was rapidly drawing to a close. That would mean cold. Snow. Worse … ice. “I hate the cold.”
I’d spent many of my earliest years in the muggy heat of America’s south—or in the heart of Africa. There were a handful of years that had been spent … elsewhere, but I try not to think about that.
Heat was simply bred into my bones. I could handle the cold, but that didn’t mean I liked it.
Saleel’s teeth flashed white in the faintest of smiles when he glanced at me. “Then perhaps next time when I ask you if you have a preference, you should give me an answer. Instead, you say, Do whatever you want, Sal.”
He managed an imitation of my voice that was almost dead-on.
I stuck my tongue out at him.
He went back to staring into the tent. “Offer your tongue again, my angel, and I will make use of it.”
Yeah. Right.
The two of us were like gasoline and fire and we both knew it. Combustible—and dangerous.
“Promises, promises,” I said lightly, and then I eased closer, bracing my shoulder on the lightweight metal of the doorframe, gazing deeper into the tent.
Saleel was right.
I was restless.
But I hadn’t yet figured out why.
A hot summer wind caressed the back of my neck. I enjoyed it while I could. Once I got inside, the air would be stifling. Already, I was dreading it. I could smell the heat of too many bodies and the air was thick with sweat. Heavy with despair.
Hope clung to many of the people who awaited me, but hope was a capricious bitch. I could all but hear the cackling, gleeful laugh as she darted from one person to another, crooning, You don’t really think this will work, do you? You’re going to die … You’re all going to die…
Fans churned from all corners, laboriously whirring away. They did little to cool the temperature, but at least the air kept moving.
It wasn’t the heat, though, that plagued me. It wasn’t even the promise of death. People died. It was simply part of life. It wasn’t the despair or the misery—the hunger inside me reached for that, but that wasn’t what made me restless.
“It’s time,” Saleel murmured.
I nodded.
But still, I didn’t move, searching inside the tent.
“Frankie?”
“I’m going.” I took a deep breath and reached deep inside for the well of calm that would carry me through when I took another’s pain inside me. I craved pain—fed on it.
That didn’t mean it was pleasant.
The twisted duality of my nature made me crave the misery even as I knew it would later cause me plenty of my own misery. My body already dreaded it. My stomach knotted and my muscles tensed and my legs tried to resist my head’s commands to move.
As I moved to the simple podium set up on the dais, I did a brief scan of the crowd. If there was anybody in there with a bad heart or other such frailty, I’d deal with them first. Maybe that’s all it was—somebody could be hovering right on the edge of life. I’d had that happen before.
There were plenty of those who did—or claimed to do—what I did, and they would have thrived on healing somebody with a failing heart or stopping a stroke in action. It was pure drama.
But I wasn’t there to cash in on dramatic moments or inspire awe.
Terrible as it sounds, I was just there to feed.
My quick scan told me everything I needed to know. An elderly woman up front needed to get her pacemaker checked, but she wasn’t in immediate danger—still, I’d do what I could tonight before she left. Hearts were always tricky.
“Welcome!” My manager, Jody Wilson, lifted her hands and waited for the applause to die down.
I paused a few feet from my spot and waited. The crowd was deafening. Despite the cacophony, I could hear just fine—including the scattered mutters of She’s a fraud, Man, look ho
w tall she is, I would kill to have those cheekbones …
The curtain at the back opened and as a couple of people slid in, I cast them a casual glance.
They might as well have brought an electrical storm with them, and my second glance wasn’t so casual. Tension shot through me. I felt like I had a leash around my neck and I was being jerked right toward them.
You …
The restlessness I’d felt all night suddenly made sense.
It hadn’t been the heat. It hadn’t been boredom.
I’d been waiting. And I’d been waiting for them.
But I couldn’t let myself get too distracted, not at first.
I still had a job to do, and I had to feed. It had been over a month since the last meeting, and while I could go a fair amount of time between feeds, the last one had been minimal. Most of the people had been there either for kicks or because of things that, sadly, I couldn’t fix. I wish I could help all of them and not just because of the rush I get when I take in the suffering, or the peace I find when pain is alleviated.
Suffering, to put it bluntly, sucks.
Tonight, the air was thick with misery, so thick I was choking on it and if I wanted, I could feed until I was drunk from it. It was everywhere, all around me. And … to my surprise, one of those so quietly hurting was the woman who’d entered in silence from the back. One who crackled with the wild energy of somebody who wasn’t entirely mortal.
I blocked her out, again. And focused on a young woman in the front. She was pregnant—and she had cancer.
My heart twisted as I moved closer, my gaze resting on her. She stared at me, her eyes beseeching.
Her friend was glaring at me as she tried to tug her away.
“Come on, Cici,” she said, her voice cutting through the chaos churning inside me. She watched me with disgust.
I slid a look around, studying the faces of the sea of people. In the back, I noticed the blonde woman—the latecomer. Her cat-green eyes held a flicker of distaste.
She glanced at her companion and the two of them shared one of those unspoken conversations. I shifted my attention to him and arched a brow. Oh … helllloooo … pretty, pretty man.
His eyes were narrowed pensively as he took in his surroundings, his gaze never once connecting with mine.
The two of them looked highly out of place, though. They looked … bored.
You won’t be bored much longer.
I smiled at them both.
Read more…
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A Note To Readers
Bio
More JC Daniels’ Titles
Look for other titles by J.C.’s other half, Shiloh Walker
Misery’s Way