Huntress Moon (Bones and Bounties Book 2)

by Bilinda Sheehan

  “Shit.” I crossed the room and grabbed one of the obsidian blades from her shoulder.

  Mazik caught my hand before I could pull it free, his black eyes now returned to normal. “Leave it, love, she’s too far gone…” For a moment, I thought I heard pity in his voice.

  “We can’t leave her to suffer,” I said.

  “She tried to kill you and your pet witch. If I hadn’t been here, Samira would have been toast. Better to let the pixie suffer.”

  I had clearly misheard the pity in his voice.

  The pixie screamed, but it sounded wet and utterly wrong. The black foam continued bubbling out of her mouth and splattering down onto her chain mail shirt.

  “No, we do not let her suffer,” I said.

  “Let me.” Byron appeared at my elbow. He pushed at Mazik, but the demon kept a punishing hold on my hand as I fought against him.

  “This could all be a trap, and then you’ll be letting this crazy bitch loose on our asses again,” Mazik said as he faced Byron.

  The wolf growled, the sound trickling out from between his lips, and I felt the tension in the room spike.

  “Mazik, cut the shit,” I said, jerking free of his grip. “If she’s faking, then it’ll be on my head.” I grabbed the obsidian blade once more and tugged it free of her shoulder.

  She slumped forward, her other arm still pinned in place, and pain burned in my back as I reached to grab the other blade. But Byron was there before me, moving swiftly, and he pulled out the blade and caught the pixie before she could drop into my arms. Cradling her as though she were a child, he carried her to the middle of the floor. Samira helped him prop pillows beneath her body. She convulsed violently in his arms; the black foam had thickened and seemed to drip from her lips sluggishly.

  Her bloody tears were rapidly changing colour and were now the same consistency as the black bile.

  “What is it?” Samira asked, fear etched into her face as she watched the pixie struggle to breathe.

  Whatever was happening to her would not be quick. The fae were notoriously difficult to kill; their bodies fought to heal despite grievous and oftentimes fatal injuries. And if they were strong, as the pixie appeared to be, then death would not come easily.

  “She broke her bond,” I said. “She revealed the name of the person she works for, which is punishable by death.”

  “Is there nothing we can do?” Samira asked.

  There was something I could do, but it definitely wasn’t what Samira had in mind. I was the harbinger—it was my duty to foretell coming death, but when death was imminent, like now, I could help it along. But no matter how much I hated to admit it to myself, I couldn’t stop feeling like her suffering was justified. She had come here to kill me, to kill the ones I cared about, and part of me wanted her to get her just reward.

  “You could relieve her of her suffering,” Byron said, his words catching me off guard.

  “I wouldn’t be relieving her of her suffering. It would be murder.” I glanced up at him, my shoulders stiffening with the weight of the accusation in his voice as though he could see straight through me to the thoughts swirling in my mind.

  “It’s the same thing,” he said, “but in this case it would be a kindness. She will only linger, serving as a warning for others who might consider breaking their bond. A cruel death for one who was only following orders.”

  His words pricked at me, but he wasn’t wrong. The viscous liquid pouring from her mouth had slowed to a crawl, but she was still taking long, arduous breaths that rattled and bubbled in her lungs. Her skin had begun to lose its colour, turning grey in the harsh office lights.

  “Fine.” I turned and headed for the back stairs that led to the basement, where I had stored the Bone Blade for the day. I couldn’t help but feel chastised. I would have eventually come to the same conclusion as Byron; I’d never allowed anyone to suffer unnecessarily, but having him tell me before I’d sorted through everything in my head first didn’t sit well with me.

  Mazik met me in the hall, his expression filled with anger as he caught my arm. “You would let a wolf order you around?” he hissed.

  “No one is ordering anyone,” I snapped, and then, changing my mind, added, “except maybe me ordering you.”

  “You know what I mean, Darcey. He speaks and you quiver with need, begging to know how high you should jump for his command.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I warned.

  “Don’t I dare what? Don’t I dare speak the truth? You fae are all the same—you dance around the truth, but all that really means is that you are expert liars. I’m a demon, for God’s sake, and I’m more honest than you.” I wasn’t used to hearing such passion in Mazik’s voice.

  “Just leave,” I said. “If you don’t like it here, then get out.”

  He hesitated and opened his mouth as if to say more, but then closed it again. “You’re right. I’ll go, but when the dog bites don’t come crying to me.” And then he was gone, faster than even my fae eyes could follow.

  Why did he care that I was working with Byron? I’d never really seen Mazik so bothered by something. Was it because I wouldn’t let the two of them rip each other apart in their little pissing contest, or was something else going on that I, as usual, had missed?

  Placing my hand on the door leading to the stairs, I waited for the audible pop of the wards giving way before pushing open the door and heading down into the basement. Far too many questions remained, and right now I didn’t have the time to worry about why the demon’s knickers were so badly twisted. Instead, I would focus on what I needed to do. Sometimes, that was the only thing left.

  Chapter Eight

  Crouching next to the pixie, I turned the Bone Blade over in my hands. Its power called me like nothing else could, and the urge to unleash it upon the world was almost overwhelming. But I was the harbinger, the banshee, and I held the blade’s power in my hands. Only I could force it to bend to my will, and mine alone. In the hands of anyone else, it brought suffering beyond measure. But in my hands, if I willed it, the blade was mercy itself.

  Her eyes met mine, and her lips moved as though in silent prayer as her breaths came in bubbling gasps. Gripping the blade’s hilt, I pressed the tip down over the pixie’s heart.

  Lifting my face, I met Byron’s gaze. “Leave, and take Samira with you.” My voice rang with power; soon, I would keen for the fallen.

  “I don’t want to leave,” Samira said, but, seeing the look in my eyes, Byron nodded and stood without further question.

  His unfaltering obedience was an interesting reaction. Almost as though I wasn’t the first banshee he had encountered. Yet, I was the only banshee alive; the last of my kind had died a hundred years ago, leaving me alone. But there was no mistaking the understanding in his eyes, an understanding that didn’t seem possible.

  “No,” Samira said, and I could hear her struggling against Byron as he picked her up, leaving me with the pixie and my building magic.

  “I am sorry,” I said, “that my power is not what it once was, that I cannot mourn as was once possible.”

  The pixie nodded almost imperceptibly and then closed her eyes, the thick black liquid pooling against her lashes.

  Piercing her skin with just the tip of the blade, I felt her life force ebb away as the Bone Blade drank deep of her power. The pixie’s skin turned grey, and within moments her body became ash that collapsed in on itself until nothing remained but a pile of dust.

  Throwing back my head, I let the scream building in the back of my throat rip free. The sorrow tore through me as the scream became a wail that lingered on the air long after I released it.

  The silence crept back in around me, but I was acutely aware of the neighbourhood dogs taking up my rallying cry. Their incessant barking and howling would undoubtedly irritate their owners, but at least only the most sensitive of humans would have heard my scream.

  “She’s gone?” I whirled around in surprise to find Byron standing in the doo
rway. The towel was gone, replaced by a pair of loose grey joggers. His arms were folded across his chest, which I could glimpse through the gap in his zipped hoodie. He was no less magnetic now that he was covered up, and I couldn’t shake the memory of him standing in the middle of the room utterly naked, every inch of his hard, muscular body on display.

  “Yeah, she’s gone.” I dropped my gaze to the ash on the floor. It was easier to concentrate on that than meet Byron’s heated gaze.

  “Where’s Samira?” I asked.

  “Sitting in the coffee shop across the street.”

  “You left her alone?”

  “No, one of my friends runs it. He’s keeping an eye on her and the kitten.”

  I nodded but didn’t answer. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. I could trust that if an alpha wolf gave a command, it would be carried out.

  “Would you really have let the demon have her?” he asked, his question catching me off guard. I jerked my head up to meet his eyes. He gestured to where the pixie had been pinned to the wall to emphasise his point.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “Well, part of me wants to believe that just because you’re fae doesn’t mean you’ve lost all compassion, but then I can’t help but remember that little rule you guys have.”

  “And what rule would that be?”

  “The one that says you can’t lie,” he said.

  Hadn’t I asked myself the same question? We couldn’t lie, and yet I had. And if I hadn’t, then I’d skirted the truth like a pro, something I’d never been capable of before.

  “I don’t think I would have let him,” I said.

  “That’s a pretty dismal answer.” Byron sounded shocked.

  “Well you want honesty, and I’m giving it to you,” I said, “and the answer is that I don’t know what I would have done. I needed the information from her. Do I regret the threat? Not really. I have enough enemies, and knowing who they are so I can prepare and stand a chance when they come for me isn’t something I’ll ever feel bad about.”

  “I know what it’s like to do anything to survive,” he said, sounding suddenly raw and vulnerable.

  “As much as I’d love to believe that, I really don’t think you and I have the same definition of doing anything to survive,” I said, struggling to not sound bitter as I got to my feet. “Now I need to clean up, and then I need sleep.” I pushed past him.

  He didn’t try to stop me, which surprised me. I was so used to having the men in my life try to hold me back, or force me to explain myself, that it was refreshing to have one who didn’t instantly place demands on my time.

  Making my way into the back hall, I headed down the stairs and paused in front of the basement mirror. My back was still burning, and I shrugged out of my T-shirt, leaving the tank top in place. I glanced over my shoulder to assess the damage. Dark grey lines fed outward from the cut, and I could feel the iron slowly spreading through my system. The wound would take time to heal, and I had no way of speeding it up. If I was lucky, then I would sweat the worst of it while I slept.

  Byron’s reflection appeared in the mirror behind me, his fingers gently sliding across my skin as he examined the wound.

  “The blades didn’t look like iron, and yet I can smell the poison in your system,” he said.

  “It’s a neat little trick,” I said. “They infuse the blades with iron before using them on another fae. The pixies don’t like to play fair.”

  Byron nodded and bent his head low toward my skin. I stiffened and moved away from him. “What are you doing?”

  “The poison is still close to the surface. It hasn’t hit a vein or an artery yet, which means we’ve got time to get rid of it.” His eyes met mine in the mirror.

  “I appreciate it,” I said, “but I’ll just burn it out. That’ll take more time, but it’s better than carving me up in the hopes we can cut the iron out.”

  Byron shook his head. “Have you never seen the venom from a snake bite being sucked out of the wound?”

  “I don’t think so, buster.” I shrugged away from him in horror.

  “Look, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want, but it really is the fastest way to get rid of the poison.” He was making it all sound so utterly normal.

  “And I’m saying it’ll be fine,” I argued. “I’ll be weaker for a little while but fine.”

  It was Byron’s turn to shrug. “So long as you’ll still be able to investigate.”

  “Death is the only thing that might stand in the way of me doing my job,” I said, my temper rising.

  “Good. I’ll take my leave of you for tonight, but I’ll be back in the morning.” He turned and headed for the stairs.

  “What, need to go and howl at the moon?” I said sarcastically.

  “Something like that.” His low chuckle floated back to me as he disappeared out the door, leaving me alone in the basement.

  My mind conjured an image of Byron’s lips on my skin, his teeth grazing my flesh as his strong hands held me in place.

  A shiver raced down my spine, and I shrugged back into my T-shirt, suddenly unsure of turning him away.

  “Don’t lose your head, Darcey,” I said aloud to the reflection in the mirror. “He’s not worth the risk.”

  I stared at myself as the lie curdled in the pit of my stomach. We couldn’t lie, but no one said we had to be honest with ourselves.

  Chapter Nine

  Crossing the floor to the desk, I plonked down on the yoga mat I’d set out for myself. Meditation would speed up the healing process, but first I had to fight to clear my mind from the turmoil.

  With a groan of frustration, I gave up. I had only made it to my knees before the air in front of my face began shimmering softly, reminding me of the summer heat from the Seelie Court, the warm, fragrant air distorting and causing mirages for those who didn’t belong. The air was split with an ear-piercing siren wail as the shimmering intensified. Whoever was trying to get past my magical wardings in the basement clearly didn’t belong here.

  Rolling backwards into a crouched position, I pulled my silver blades free. My back protested the sudden movement, but I didn’t have time for the pain. The silver blades wouldn’t kill a fae but would at least hurt them enough to slow them down so I could retrieve my iron knives on the other side of the room, just out of reach beyond the shimmering air.

  My ears popped as the shimmering became a burst of light that momentarily stole my vision. Lunging forward, blades at the ready, I trusted my instincts and long hours of training to give me the advantage I needed.

  The earth shifted beneath my feet as the smell of summer blossoms filled my head. Power slammed into my chest, knocking the wind out of me, and I recognized the culprit as my body crashed backwards into the brick wall behind my desk.

  “Darcey, is that any way to greet an old friend?” The voice was almost as familiar to me as my own.

  “I didn’t realise we were still friends, Idalina,” I choked out, my words caught in the back of my throat as the force of her power held me in place against the cold brick.

  She shook her long raven hair back from her face and grinned at me. There had been a time when I would have trusted the expression on her face, but not anymore. Not since she had betrayed me to the Faerie Court, telling them of my crimes and condemning me to a life of slavery as the Court’s personal bitch.

  “You know me, Darcey, I’m not one to hold a grudge,” she said. “Now will you play nice, or do I need to keep you pinned like the pretty little bug you are.” Her tone was all sweetness and light, belying the true intention of her words.

  “You owe me a debt, Idalina, and I will get what I am owed whether you like it or not.” The words left my mouth through gritted teeth. The last thing I wanted was to remain pinned against the wall, but when Idalina asked a question, you answered, willing or not.

  “Pinned it is, then.” She smiled at me again, but it wasn’t a pleasant look. I fought against the hold she had ov
er me, sweat beading on my skin. My efforts drew a look of consideration from her.

  “Weaker than I remember, but stronger than I expected…” she said thoughtfully.

  With a grunt of effort, I quit fighting her and immediately felt her power slide through my brain like a mist, coating everything in its path. She didn’t have the physical strength to hold me against the wall, but her ability to manipulate the reality around her had turned my body into my enemy. It believed it was pinned to the wall, so I was. If she wanted my lungs to believe the air I was breathing was no longer oxygen-rich, then I would slowly suffocate.

  When we had been friends, I had watched her torture a human to death. Her callous actions made me see her in a different light, and our friendship had suffered. Of course, Mannan choosing me over her had firmly set us at odds, and her subsequent betrayal of me to the Faerie Court had been nothing but revenge.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “So quick to get to the point. You weren’t always so impatient.”

  “You weren’t always a lying traitor, but hey, I guess we all change.”

  “That’s not how Faerie sees it, Darcey.” She smirked, but I didn’t rise to the bait. There was a time when I would have raged against her, but not anymore. She had done enough to me, and I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

  The silence stretched between us, the clock on the wall opposite me ticking down the seconds. Idalina narrowed her eyes in irritation and folded her arms across her chest.

  “When did you get so Zen?”

  “What do you want, Ida,” I said, using the shortened version of her name, knowing just how much it irritated her. I wasn’t disappointed. Her eyebrows snapped together as her expression became a scowl that might have withered a lesser fae.

  “Fine, I want your help.”

  The laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. Had I been away from Faerie so long that Idalina had completely lost her mind? It was either the worst joke ever or…

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” I said, choking back the laughter as she continued to stare at me.