Night Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book Two

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Night Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book Two Page 6

by Juliana Spink Mills


  Inside, the heat slammed him in the face. He’d forgotten that Gareth always had the thermostat cranked up to Hell on Earth. He took off his coat, his back already prickled with sweat. He walked through to the main living area to find the crew gathered around Gareth’s scarred wooden table. Ben paused by an empty chair. He nodded at May, sitting across from him in one of those shapeless oversized t-shirts she seemed to like so much. This one had a pet rescue center logo on it. She spared a glance from her cell phone to look up and nod back at him, and then returned to playing some game or another, black hair bobbing in a messy ponytail.

  There was a pixie sitting next to her, with the usual slim build and black eyes of his kind, hair cut short and spiky and dyed hot pink to match his pale pink aura. On May’s other side was the werewolf Lix had mentioned, all tawny-gold hair and skin, startling amber eyes, and faded, too-short Metallica tee.

  Lix sat at the head of the table, beside the pixie. She’d shaved off one side of her hair since he’d last seen her, the rest a dark blonde tangle of braids. She’d acquired more piercings in her ears, and one on her nose. She was wearing her usual jumble of clothing, shirt layered on top of shirt, and her old denim jacket over it all, like a walking flea market.

  She cleared her throat. “We’re all here. Let’s get started.”

  Ben pulled out his chair and turned it around so he could straddle it, resting his arms across the top. Lix shot him a look, arching her eyebrows as if to say, “Are you done?” She cleared her throat again.

  “Right. Introductions, since we have a couple of new crew members here tonight. This is Ben. He’ll be in charge of offensive magic. Mayumi here will deal with wards and hexes.” Lix eyed the werewolf and the pixie. “She’s the witch equivalent of a locksmith. She’ll break us into the goods. Gareth will handle defensive spells. He’ll take care of any shields we might need.”

  Lix was on a roll now. She pointed at the pixie. “Finn is on site control. He’ll be in charge of restraining and guarding any locals we find when we get there. Like staff. Anyone on the grounds who might interfere.” The pixie waved a hand and smiled cheerfully, flashing a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth.

  “Over here is Raze.” Lix waved a hand at the werewolf. “She’ll handle access. She’ll get us in and out of the structure that houses the vault, and act as lookout once we’re inside.

  “Then there’s me. This is my job, you’re my crew. I’m happy to hear constructive suggestions, but at the end of the day, this is my game and you can either play by my rules, or jump ship now. I’ll be carrying my usual selection of offensive and defensive potions, plus a few little surprises I’ve come up with, but my main role is to keep this shit together. Understood?”

  Gareth gave a small bow in her direction. “At your service, Madame. And now, can you please tell us what the heck we’re going after? I mean, not that it isn’t nice making new friends and catching up with Benjy again, but usually you, me, and May can handle things. So what on earth is going to take a crew this size? We hitting Fort Knox or something?”

  “Fort Knox has nothing on this place,” she answered. “We’re looking for an item, a magical item, in the private vault of Cornell Winslow.”

  “The High Baron himself? Jeez, Lix!” May’s sudden outburst and the shocked look on her face pretty much translated what Ben himself was feeling. He raised his eyebrows.

  “Ambitious much?” he remarked. “You do know it’s suicide if we’re caught, right? So what could possibly be worth breaking into the house of the most powerful witch in North America?”

  Lix leaned back in her chair, a smug smile on her face. “I told you, it’s a big-ticket item. I have a buyer, and there’s a lot of money involved. A cool half a million dollars each, in fact. Plus expenses.”

  Ben whistled. “Someone’s willing to pay three million dollars for this ‘item’?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Who’s this mystery buyer?”

  “Ah, our client wishes to remain anonymous,” she said carefully. “I don’t know who they are. But I have two hundred grand in my bank account as a show of faith, and I’m happy to share the love around. I’d say that’s a pretty good show of faith.”

  She was lying, Ben was sure of it. He knew Lix like the back of his hand, all her small tells, her quirks of expression. But he also knew she was stubborn to the point of stupidity. If she didn’t want them to know who the buyer was, nothing would drag it out of her.

  “So,” she said, “worth the risk?”

  “Heck, yeah,” said Finn happily. “I’m in. I could do with a sum like that. I’d sell my grandmother for a sum like that.”

  The werewolf, Raze, wet her lips. She was watching Lix, a look of determination on her face. “I’m in,” she said.

  “In,” said May, turning to Gareth. “You?”

  “In,” he answered. “I wouldn’t let my girl Lix down, you know that.”

  Lix rolled her eyes in response and looked at Ben. “How about you?” Her voice was iron and salt, hard and harsh.

  “In. But you already knew that,” he answered bitterly. “You made sure of it.” And I won’t forget that in a hurry, he added silently.

  “Great, so it’s a deal.” Lix smiled suddenly, a bright flash of sunshine that transformed her face.

  As Gareth got up to fetch glasses and pour drinks to seal the contract, she set her hands on the table. Her short-bitten nails were painted a vivid orange shade today, and she wore a particularly nasty-looking skull ring that smacked of magic. A personal shield charm, Ben guessed.

  “Right, my pretties, listen up,” she said. “This job has a short window, and has to be pulled off while the Baron is at the Mid-Winter Moot this upcoming weekend. He’ll have the most trusted members of his entourage with him, and all eyes will be on the Adirondacks. That gives us less than a week to prepare. Full briefing tomorrow night, and after that we have until Friday to procure equipment and make any preparations. Clear?”

  “Crystal,” drawled May.

  Gareth returned and banged an ice-encrusted bottle on the table. Vodka. He hadn’t been kidding about it, then. As he handed around glasses, Ben took the bottle and peered at the label. It was a good brand, pricey. “Nice stuff, Blofeld.”

  “Only the best for my comrades.” The fake Russian accent was back. Lix looked pained, and the werewolf bemused. But Finn snickered and May was smiling indulgently. Gareth began pouring shots and they all raised their glasses. Lix spoke the contract spell, an idiotic jumble of words she’d come up with for their first job, back when they were all far too young to be doing any of this, and certainly too young to be drinking alcohol bought with Gareth’s fake ID.

  “We seal the deal and drink to success. Any deal breakers will end up a—”

  “—big, fat, mess,” chimed in Gareth and May, and even Ben muttered the words out of habit, although it wasn’t necessary for the incantation to take hold. We really need a new spell, he thought, before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be a part of this anymore.

  “Now drink,” Lix ordered. Ben downed the shot and felt the tingle of magic burning down his throat along with the heat of the vodka. Raze spluttered, choking on the last of her shot. She set her glass down gingerly.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “A witch’s version of a written contract,” May answered. “If anyone breaks faith, they’ll bleed. Massive internal hemorrhage.”

  “What?” said Raze, eyes wide. Her face had paled.

  “Not a pretty sight, girl, I can tell you that,” said Gareth. “I’ve seen what happens to a contract breaker, up close.” He shuddered, and Raze looked thoughtful. Finn, however, shrugged.

  “I’m not in the habit of breaking contracts. I’m good. But I’d like some specifics. Say I get hit by a bus,” he said. “Smash. Bang. Out of commission for a month or two. Unable to do my part. Do I die?”

  “No,” said Lix. “You have to purposefully act counter to the job. Just sitting it out won’t hurt you. But, for instanc
e, if you went to the Baron, that would trigger it. You’re not planning to rat us out, are you?”

  “Nah, I’ll settle for the five hundred grand.” Finn smiled, once again flashing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

  “Well, then,” she said. “You have nothing to worry about. Anyway, it doesn’t happen all at once. You get warnings: nosebleeds, coughing up blood. Don’t talk to anyone not in this room about the job, don’t betray the job, and you’ll be fine. And that goes for texting, writing, whatever. Okay, meeting is over. Back here tomorrow, same time. I’d like Ben and May to stay behind, please.”

  Gareth escorted Finn and Raze out and returned. “So, spill,” he said to Lix. “What’s the real reason we need the noobs? I mean, come on, we’ve done plenty of breaking and entering before. What’s different this time?”

  “They’ll make the job smoother,” Lix said. “It’s going to be a tough one. And if we pull it off successfully, the Baron won’t be happy. We may well find we need a scapegoat or two. And who better to throw under the train wreck — should it occur — than a couple of outsiders? The contract spell will keep them from saying too much. You know how effective it is. So if things go south, we let them take the fall and we’re in the clear.”

  Ben stared at her. “Damn, Lix. That’s cold, even for you. The girl’s just a kid.”

  “The Saint says she’s eighteen. She’s the same age as us, Ben, and we haven’t been kids for a long time. So no pity party, okay? If we need them, we have them. But if we all do our jobs, we won’t need to serve them up.” She pushed her chair back, legs scraping nastily on Gareth’s linoleum. “Dismissed.”

  Ben glared at her. He remembered the pixie’s cheeky grin, and the werewolf’s quiet determination. There was no way he was letting Lix throw them away like table scraps. He’d make damn well sure they made it through. And screw Lix.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Raze

  Outside, the fog had thickened. After the sweltering heat of Gareth’s apartment, the winter chill hit hard, sneaking damp fingers down the neck of Raze’s coat. She shivered and turned the collar up.

  She eyed Finn’s pink hair as they set off toward the subway station. “Nice look. What happened to the green?”

  “Eh, you know what preternaturals are like. They think all us pixies look the same. Swap out the hair color, and you get yourself a brand-new pixie.”

  “That’s… rude.”

  “It’s offensive as all hell, but I’m used to it,” he said, shrugging. “It can be useful.”

  There was a brief silence before Raze spoke again. “So, what did you think? You know, about all that? The meeting, I mean.”

  He grimaced. “I think that ridiculous vodka spell could be problematic. It’s so vague. What are the limitations? I mean, I’m a pixie; we have a certain immunity to magic. But I drank that spell voluntarily, and I felt it take. I have no idea if it’ll work at full strength for me. Or if I’ll be able to try and hijack the, um, artifact at the end. But you heard Lix: you should be all right. We’ll fake an accident. Something that looks natural, and gets you out of the job.”

  “Yeah, this could be tricky,” she agreed. “And you don’t need to say ‘artifact’. I know what it is.”

  “Yes, but the others don’t. Or at least, most of the others. Lix knows a lot more than she’s letting on.”

  The uncertainty she was feeling must have shown, because he stopped walking and took one of her hands in his. “Hey, kid, we’ll figure a safe way around the spell. Let’s wait and see what turns up at the next meeting, okay?”

  “What are you going to tell Alex?”

  “Whatever I can. Whatever the spell lets me. It’ll be a good test. Look, let’s try it now. Like I said, I’m immune to a lot of magical crap. Maybe this won’t be so bad.” He waited until they neared the subway station, until the silent gloom of the foggy evening had given way to neon lights and passers-by, and pulled her into a doorway beside a sad-looking plastic Santa. He pulled out a cell phone and punched in a number.

  “It’s me,” he said quietly. “We’ve just left. As expected, it’s going to happen on the Moot weekend. You’ll never believe the target, though. Shit.” He put his hand to his face and it came away bloody. “Nose bleed. Here, talk to Rose. Raze, sorry.”

  He shoved the phone into her hands and fumbled for tissues. Raze frowned, worried. “Are you okay?”

  Finn waved at the phone. “Stupid spell.” His voice was muffled by the tissue he held clamped over his nose. “Talk to him, explain. Don’t say anything else about the job!”

  “Alex?”

  His voice over the cell phone was thick with worry. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

  “Contract spell. Stops us from talking about anything relating to the job. Finn’s bleeding.” She shivered. Somehow, she hadn’t expected the spell to work. It was one thing hearing about magic, knowing you came from witch blood. But Lix and the others were the first witches she’d actually met.

  “Raze?” Alex was waiting. “Is Finn okay?

  “I think so. It wasn’t the full-on spell effect, just a warning. We’ll find a way to communicate. I promise! Finn and I will work something out.”

  “Okay. Be careful!”

  “We will.” She handed the phone back to Finn, who pocketed it. He took the Kleenex off his nose.

  “How does it look?” he asked.

  “I think it’s stopped. I guess the symptoms get worse the more you betray the crew.”

  He balled up the blood-speckled tissue. “Well, this sucks! I guess I’m definitely not immune to this. Right, let’s get out of here. I’ll look into the spell and see if I can find a way around it. I’ll have to experiment, see if writing or texting works. I doubt it — Lix did warn us about that — but still, it’s worth a try.” He must have seen the look on her face, because he hastily added, “I’ll be careful, I promise. Internal bleeding doesn’t sound like my idea of fun. I’ll text one single word, and see if it affects me.”

  Finn kept her company into the subway station. “We’ll talk,” he said quietly, before they split up to head in different directions. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

  She nodded, throat tight with fear. She watched him as the escalator led her away, until she could no longer see his bright pink hair. She was alone again, and this time she was scared. Why the heck had she ever thought this would be cool?

  She caught the train back to her stop, and trudged the three blocks to her apartment, stopping to buy a slice of pizza on the way. She ate it in quick bites, ravenous, the heavy cheese and sauce masking the queasy feeling of vodka on an empty stomach. Inside, she caught the elevator to the eighth floor and walked down the hallway to her borrowed home. Then she froze. The door was open. Not full open, but ajar, light spilling from the seam between door and frame. She sharpened her senses, listening.

  Inside, there was a soft murmur of sound. A voice, on a cell phone. She considered shifting, but decided against it. What if it was a friend of Alex’s? Or a neutral human, like a building superintendent? Instead, she pushed the door open. In the middle of the tiny living room stood Jude Raven, half-demon, Master of the East Coast Hunt.

  He looked up and smiled. “I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone, then hung up and put his cell away. His smile widened. “Rosa Pietrowicz. It’s been a while.” He stood there easily, comfortable, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans.

  “Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill my godfather,” she snarled. Her voice — dangerously close to a full growl — betrayed how close she was to letting the wolf loose.

  “A small misunderstanding. No hard feelings, right?”

  “Small? Small?” She glared at him. “What do you want, Jude?”

  “I’d like you to come in, for a start. The neighbors might wonder what’s going on.” His voice was calm, his face faintly amused as if she were a small child throwing a tantrum. She vaguely considered just screaming for help. Making a fuss, and letting
someone call the police. It would serve him right. But she doubted he was here to attack her — it didn’t seem like Jude’s carefully considered style. No, he wanted something. What, was the question.

  She stepped inside, pulling the door shut but keeping it within easy reach. “What do you want?” she repeated.

  He ran a hand through his dark blond hair, looking suddenly younger. This was the first time she’d been this close to him. He must have been around her age when he’dbecome a half-demon. He was slim-built and graceful, like a dancer or a gymnast, and he wasn’t much taller than her, maybe only a couple of inches.

  “I want the Night Blade, Rose. Or should I call you Raze now?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, you heard me. I won’t insult you by repeating myself.” He quirked a small half-smile at her, completely unruffled by her startled reaction. “I know why you’re here in New York. And I know what Angelica is after. What our mutual friend Alexander of York has his sights set on. The Night Blade, Raze.”

  “Even if I knew anything about the Night Blade, why would I give it to you?”

  “Because I can help you remove that nasty little contract spell that’s tying up your tongue right now.” His gray human eye sparkled with mischief, almost as bright as his one silver demon eye. “And because I have something you want.”

  “What could you possibly have that I want?” she spat out.

  “Family.”

  “What do you mean?” She frowned, confused. “My parents are dead. Your pack killed them.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Yes, your parents are dead. But do you mean to say you never bothered asking about your other relatives?”

  Raze blinked, surprised. Relatives. No, she’d never thought of asking. She’d assumed there was no one left. That if there had been anyone, Dan would have told her. Now she felt stupid. Of course she must have family somewhere. Aunts, cousins, uncles. Her heart beat faster, and she swayed slightly, lightheaded at the thought.

 

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