Blood Before Sunrise: A Shaede Assassin Novel

by amanda bonilla

  “I’m sorry, love.” He laid his lips to my forehead and stayed that way for a few moments before pulling away. “I think you need to decide what you really want. I won’t tag along after you anymore. I won’t sit at home and wait while you risk your life.”

  “But the bond…” It was my ace in the hole. He couldn’t leave me. He’d bound himself to me.

  “Is intact,” he said. “I told you, only you have the power to break it. I will protect you with my dying breath. If you need me, you know what to do.” He turned away, left me leaning against the doorjamb for support, and returned to his suitcase. He didn’t take the time to fold his clothes, instead shoving them in the case before stuffing the lid down and zipping it closed.

  I was frantic to keep him where he was. He couldn’t leave me. He couldn’t. “Ty, please don’t go. Please, Ty. Don’t—God, please—don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t be gone long,” he said, throwing my own words back in my face. I wished like hell I’d never written that damned note, that I could turn back time and undo it all. “I tried too hard.” He grabbed the suitcase and crossed the room toward me. “I tried to force you before you were ready. Maybe without me here, you’ll find the closure you need to let me in. I hope that when I come back, you’ll be ready to trust me, to believe in me.”

  “You don’t have to leave for that to happen, Tyler.” My world was crumbling around me, and there was nothing I could do about it. “Stay. Please.”

  “I love you,” he said as he leaned in to kiss me one last time. “Good-bye, Darian.”

  His lips on mine caused a ripple of energy to flow over my body, and the room swam in a dizzy blur. I closed my eyes to steady my careening world, and when I opened them again, he was gone.

  I don’t know how I got back to my apartment. I was worse than a fucking zombie, more brainless than the walking dead without even hunger to motivate my shuffling steps. I got out of the elevator and stared at my surroundings as if I’d never seen the place before. Someone had come in and turned up the heat. At least, I thought someone had. The vents were blowing warm air, stirring my hair and drying my wide, unblinking eyes.

  I’d been back in Seattle for only a few hours. But somehow it felt like years. As if I’d been watching from a distance, the scene with Tyler played over and over in my mind, and I searched for the right word, the perfect phrase I hadn’t said, that might have convinced him to stay. God, I’d fucked up. Pushed him too far. Expected too much and at the same time, not enough. I loved him the way I’d been taught to love—through control and manipulation. I’d failed him—miserably. I didn’t know how to share my life with someone. Tyler deserved someone so much better than I. And though I knew he should have gone out and found that better someone, I prayed to whatever gods that listened that he wouldn’t.

  “I love you.”

  He’d said those words to me.

  “Good-bye, Darian.”

  Right before he left me.

  What was I going to do without him? He’d been a constant presence in my life for so long. I took for granted the knowledge that he’d always be there for me, no matter what. I took three shuffling steps toward my kitchen when a long black scabbard caught my eye. Sitting atop my dining room table were a note, a stack of mail, and—my katana.

  My chest loosened a little when I looked at the sword I thought I’d lost back in Spokane when Faolán had taken control of me. I loved that goddamned piece of metal, and seeing it there on my dining room table brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. I picked up the note, staring at the words that seemed nothing more than incoherent scribbles until my eyes finally made sense of them all and recognized Raif’s swirling script.

  You left this in Spokane. It was my pleasure to retrieve it for you. Checked your mail while you were gone as well. This is not the dark hour you think it is, Darian. Have Faith.

  —R

  I caressed the scabbard, thinking of the shining blade encased within it as I crumpled Raif’s note and threw it somewhere toward my kitchen. He’d known Tyler was leaving. Shit, he’d more than likely talked to him before flying to England to meet me. I felt so lost. Directionless. Immobile. I didn’t know if I could even function without Tyler. I didn’t want to be alone. My hand brushed over the stack of mail Raif had left, the shiny surface of a postcard waking me from my stupor. I picked it up, the modern-day depiction of San Francisco covered with bright red curling letters of the city’s name. I tried to take a deep breath, my pulse racing out of control as I turned the card over to find a cheerful message from an anonymous sender, though the handwriting was unmistakable: Wish You Were Here.

  Jesus Christ. Lorik. He should have been long dead, but there was no way in hell that postcard was from anyone other than the Armenian gangster’s son Azriel had helped to hide decades ago. A renewed sense of fear peppered my skin like flecks of ice, and I shivered. “Azriel,” I whispered, “what the hell have you gotten me into this time?”

  Turning the postcard over in my hand, I looked for some clue as to what this was all about. I couldn’t explain the dark foreboding that cast its shadow on me as I stood staring at the simple laminated cardstock, but I knew trouble was headed my way.

  “I will protect you with my dying breath. If you need me, you know what to do.” Tyler’s affirmation reverberated in my mind, heart, and soul. I hoped that sentiment held true, no matter where in the world he’d gone, because I had no doubt I was going to need Tyler’s protection in the very near future.

  “Come back to me, Ty.” I said, loud enough for the sound of my voice to bounce off the brick walls of my studio. “Soon.”

  Read on for a look at the next novel in the Shaede Assassin series,

  Crave the Darkness

  Available from Signet Eclipse in March 2013.

  Shadow.

  That’s how I started out; all I was again. A casting of mottled dark. The real me, the me that knew happiness and light left with him.

  “Darian, pay attention.” Raif nudged me with his elbow, and I brought my eyes up to meet the faces staring back at me.

  “Can you repeat the question?”

  The seven members of the Pacific Northwest Territories judicial council exchanged frustrated glances. A murmur spread from one end of the long table to the other and the speaker—a Fae with dark eyes and shining blue-black hair—shuffled through her notes before addressing me.

  “Let me see if I can get this straight. You refuse to answer to the charges brought against you. Which are—” she shuffled her papers once again—“the kidnapping of a high-priority PNT prisoner, as well as…”

  I love you.

  Tyler had said those words to me.

  “…aiding and abetting a treasonous…”

  Good-bye, Darian.

  Right before he’d walked out the door.

  Raif elbowed me again, and I snapped to attention.

  “…in addition to evading PNT authorities and violating section 15-372.1 of chain of command standard operating procedure. Does that just about cover it?”

  My gaze drifted to the Fae woman, her face coming back into focus. They might as well throw me in jail right here and now. I wouldn’t deny my guilt, and I sure as hell wouldn’t explain myself. Silence hung heavy in the room, and Raif cleared his throat. Apparently, it was my turn to speak.

  “You forgot breaking and entering, conspiracy, and all-around willful disobedience. That about covers it.”

  Raif pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes as he released a heavy sigh. When he finally had his temper under control enough to look at me, he slowly shook his head and mouthed the word: Seriously?

  Yeah, well, it wasn’t like I was going to throw myself on the floor and beg for the council’s mercy. Besides, I’d lost everything in this world I gave a damn about. At this point, I had nothing left to lose. The seven PNT council members brought their heads together, throwing furtive glances my way while they discussed my fate. This was
my third hearing in as many months, and I hadn’t given them any more information today than I had at my first arraignment. What had happened after I’d kidnapped Delilah, the Oracle who’d plotted against Raif and the entire Shaede Nation, and left the PNT’s Washington Headquarters with her partner in crime, Faolán—known to the PNT as simply Fallon—was no one’s business but my own.

  “You do realize that by keeping this secret, you may very well face imprisonment or worse.” Raif’s worried tone didn’t change my mind. And though I knew he was grateful for my secrecy, he didn’t want to see me punished, either.

  “Doesn’t matter.” I couldn’t even muster an ounce of concern in my own voice. I leaned in to Raif so only he heard me. “They can threaten me all they want. It’s taken centuries for legends of O Anel and the hourglass to fade from memory. I’m not going to endanger Brakae or the natural order by reminding anyone of things best left forgotten.”

  I didn’t give two shits about the PNT’s discipline. According to Moira, as a Guardian of the doorway to the faery realm, also known as O Anel, I was above the laws of man and Fae alike. Besides, nothing they could dish out would punish me more than I’d already punished myself. I’d hurt the only person in this world I gave a shit about, and destroyed us both in the process.

  Tyler.

  God, it hurt just to think his name. I broke his heart by leaving without a word of where I was going or when I’d be back. I betrayed our love by wishing for him to stay put in Seattle, unable to leave the city, while I traipsed around on my adventure to find Raif’s daughter. And in the end, my reward was exactly what I deserved: time away from him and the space I needed to decide what I really wanted.

  I already knew what I wanted.

  I wanted Tyler.

  But he wasn’t here with me, was he? Apparently, he didn’t think an appropriate length of time had passed for me to get my shit together. I’d tried wishing for him. In fact, I’d wished for him three or four times a day that first month, but he never showed. Jinn magic is full of rules, regulations, and limitations. One of those being that I could only wish for things I really, truly needed. And somehow, the powers that be had determined my want of Tyler wasn’t good enough.

  “Will the accused stand?” So polite, as if she was asking if I’d stay for dinner or something. You’d never have guessed the council was about to bring down the hammer.

  I scooted my chair back and shoved my bound hands against the table for leverage. The iron cuffs swirled with silver light, charmed to negate my ability to wreak any havoc, if the whim struck. Whenever an accused stood before the council, they were bound with the cuffs. In my case, they prevented me from leaving my corporeal form and weakened me to the point that I couldn’t break the bonds. Lucky for the council, I’d given up a long time ago. I had no intentions of wreaking havoc of any kind. Not now, or in the future. The fight had pretty much drained right out of me.

  “Since you refuse to speak on your own behalf, and considering we have sworn statements from many eyewitnesses, this council has no choice but to—”

  “If it pleases the council…” The double doors of the chamber swung wide, and the Shaede High King himself swept into the room as if he owned the place. “I beg a moment of your time.” Alexander Peck—or to me, just Xander—never turned down an opportunity to show off his dramatic flair, and right now, he claimed center stage.

  “With all due respect, Your Highness,” the dark-haired Fae said, “the time to testify in front of this council has passed.”

  Decked out in what had to have been a ten-thousand-dollar suit, Xander looked as regal as he did imposing. Though his stance was relaxed, his molten caramel eyes sparked with a cold light that dared anyone to turn his request down. I could only imagine what he was up to. Maybe he couldn’t stand that I was the center of attention. Or worse, maybe he just wanted to prove that he could throw his weight around.

  “Do I have to remind you about Edinburgh, Amelia?” Oh yeah, Xander definitely just wanted to throw his weight around.

  The Fae looked at the questioning faces of her colleagues before she cleared her throat, fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve. She scooped a glowing pearlescent ball in her hand and knocked the faery equivalent of a gavel down on the table twice. “We’ll adjourn for fifteen minutes. Alexander, if you’ll follow us to our quarters, we’ll hear what you have to say.”

  Xander flashed me an arrogant smile. He waited patiently as the seven council members stood and followed in their wake as they walked, single-file, from the room. “Sit tight,” he said as he strolled past Raif and me. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  We sat back down at the same time, and I asked Raif, “What the hell is he up to?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. We’re talking about Xander, after all.”

  Raif leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling as if his brother’s plans were written there. I, on the other hand, had no interest in wondering what His Royal High and Mightiness had up his sleeve. Instead, my mind drifted to where it always did lately: the clusterfuck that was my life.

  You’d think I would have lost track of the days since that night. The emerald pendulum, Iskosia, the key to the Faery realm that I wore around my neck, silenced the sound of time as it ticked within my Guardian’s soul, but I had invisible tally marks etched on my heart. Eighty-seven days, six hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-two seconds. Twenty-three…twenty-four…twenty-five…

  It’s not like I’d been brooding the entire three months. Well, almost three months. I had a system going, alternating between outings for my hearings with the PNT’s judicial council, setting up camp on my bed, answering the door for grocery delivery, and occasionally crashing on the couch while I let the TV lull me to sleep with mind-numbing entertainment. I wasn’t proud of the fact that I knew every single cast member of The Jersey Shore down to their cocktails of choice, but it was better than the alternative. The alternative being: allowing my tortured thoughts to drive me to a state of near-insanity.

  I leaned forward in my chair and massaged my sternum. The imaginary fist that had been squeezing my heart for the past seven months clenched tight, leaving a hollow ache I couldn’t get rid of, no matter how long I rubbed. I’m not a fool. I realized that the blame for our separation rested solely on me. I ran—and spent four months away—from the one person in this world I should have sprinted toward. I shunned his protection, disregarded his strength, and stomped all over the love he offered…all in the name of arrogance.

  Ty showed me how much he appreciated my treatment of him by returning the favor in classic “eye for an eye” fashion. I’d come back to Seattle after a months-long excursion spent in O Anel, the faery realm, protecting Raif’s daughter, Brakae, aka the Time Keeper, from her ex-boyfriend, a nasty Enphigmalé asshole named Faolán. It was my job, after all, to protect the doorway and the key to O Anel. I’d failed miserably, taking Faolán to the very placed he’d been banished from so he could mend two halves of the hourglass that controlled the flow of time in both the mundane world and the faery realm. If he’d succeeded in his plans, Faolán would have killed every human being on the planet, aging them instantly as time sped up in the mortal world to keep pace with time on the other side of the veil in the faery realm.

  According to Raif, during my absence Tyler had become temperamental, angry, and resentful, not to mention dirty and disheveled. I arrived at his apartment expecting to find a broken man. What I found broke me. Calm, clean, showered and shaved, and packing a suitcase for an extended vacation, Tyler gave me one last kiss and left. And he’d stayed gone. Three months and counting…

  I took a deep breath, tried to slow the frantic beating of my heart that signaled the onset of another panic attack. Dredging up memories of my many mistakes caused my palms to sweat and my breath to stall in my lungs. The floor seemed to tip beneath me and the room swam in and out of focus in a dizzying blur. Oh man, this was going to be a bad one…

  “Darian, stand up.” Raif�
��s voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it echoed in my mind as if shouted down the length of a tunnel.

  The door to the council’s private chambers opened, and I just about fell on my ass as I shot to my feet. Raif reached out to steady me, his face etched with concern. I would have given him a reassuring pat to the shoulder if my hands weren’t bound in the damn cuffs. A few deep, steady breaths managed to calm me down enough that I was no longer seeing stars at the periphery of my vision, and my head finally felt like its normal size, not floating above my shoulders like a balloon.

  Xander sauntered out of the council’s chambers much the same way he’d entered. Only this time, the smugness of his expression spoke of victory, not just the prospect of success. Great. If he had any pull with regards to the council’s decision about my sentence, I’d never live it down. Just one more thing for his royal pain in the ass to hold over my head.

  The Fae with the deep brown eyes—Amelia, Xander had called her—cast a cautious glance in the king’s direction before turning her focus to me. “The accused is officially absolved of any wrongdoing against the PNT and any charges brought against her are stricken from the official record.” She brought the opalescent orb down against the table with a resounding crack. With the sound wave, a pulse of energy swept through the room and caressed my face like a kiss of warm breeze. The cuffs around my wrists loosened on their own and dropped to the floor. Amelia’s eyes narrowed shrewdly as she addressed me. “You are free to go.”

  Xander turned to leave, his chest puffed out with pride. “You can thank me later,” he said, and strode from the room.

  As the council members rose once again to leave, I said to Raif, “He really gets off on throwing his weight around, doesn’t he?”

  Raif’s laughter was the only answer I needed.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Amanda Bonilla lives in rural Idaho with her husband and two kids. She’s a part-time pet wrangler and a full-time sun worshipper, and she goes out into the cold only when coerced. When she’s not writing, she’s either reading or talking about her favorite books.