Lix smiled. Not a nice smile, but the sort that came with neon flashing danger signs. “Now, I’ll vouch for May and Gareth. Ben, too, if only because the Guild has too much of a stick up its own ass to turn to someone like him. But you two?” Her gaze darted between Raze and Finn, measuring them. “You two I know precious little about, other than you were both recommended to me. So. Do we have any little traitors among us?”
Raze panicked. She hadn’t prepared much of a backstory, and the one she had was full of holes. She didn’t have a “cover” orphanage; if Lix asked her where she’d grown up, she was screwed. Someone like Lix was bound to know the abbey had Guild connections.
Ben stepped in, buying her time. “Lix, leave them alone. Why would the Guild send anyone to be a part of this? It doesn’t make sense. And what are we after, anyway, that the Guild would ever dirty its righteous fingers to get hold of?”
While Lix’s attention was on Ben, Raze looked at Finn. The pixie gave her the tiniest wink, as if to say, trust me.
“I say it’s the girl,” Finn said loudly before Lix could answer. Everyone turned to him. He gave Raze a sour look. “Thinks she’s too good for us, can’t you tell? She has Guild written all over her face.”
“You would say that,” snapped Ben. “Just because she won’t let you get in her pants doesn’t mean she’s Guild.”
“Oh, so you’re saying I’m the traitor?” said Finn, getting up in Ben’s face and flashing his teeth at the witch.
“I don’t see why not?” Ben replied, standing his ground. “Why so defensive, Finn?” he snarled. “Got something to hide, do we?”
Gareth and Lix closed ranks, advancing upon the pixie. Finn’s eyes went convincingly wide as he looked around him, as though he hadn’t been setting himself up in the first place. And then he was off, ducking under Ben’s arm and dodging past May, who stood further back. Raze wanted to shout, to call him back. To tell them all it was her, not him. He was the one who was supposed to go along on the job, the one with actual field experience. She was dispensable. But already it was too late; streams of magic blasted toward the running pixie, magic that rebounded off him with no apparent harm. Immunity, Raze remembered.
Gareth swore and chased after him. His fingers caught the fleeing pixie’s jacket just before he reached the door, and he pulled Finn back, slamming him against the floor. Finn didn’t stay down, though. He grabbed Gareth’s arm and bit, hard. Gareth shouted and whipped his arm away. Before anyone else could step in, Finn rolled away and got back onto his feet, escaping out the door.
Ben and Lix ran after him, while May knelt by Gareth. “Are you freaking kidding me?” she said. “The bastard’s teeth went right through your sweater, Gar.” May pulled up Gareth’s sleeve. “Ouch. And right through your skin, too. What is he, some sort of shark man?”
They were both looking at the bite mark in fascination as Raze approached. Finn must have had a second layer of teeth behind the first, as the mark looked like a double steel trap had closed on Gareth’s arm. She was still staring at it when the others returned, empty-handed.
“—got away,” Lix was saying, her voice grim. “We should look out for an ambush, once the job is over. They want our goods. Fucking Guild.”
But Raze was only half paying attention. She cleared her throat. “Um, guys?” She pointed at Gareth’s arm, which was rapidly swelling, taking on a greenish tinge. “Is it meant to look like that?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Camille
Camille rolled her stiff neck to both sides, trying to ignore the pain in her shoulders. Not even half-demons with their healing abilities were made for enduring hours stuck to a chair with their arms behind their back. She ached all over, muscles stiff from inaction and the cold. And she was ready to kill whoever had invented duct tape.
John had stopped screaming hours ago: a sudden quiet that had been worse at first than his shouts of pain, but that now smacked of inevitability. It was a shame. His grumpy snark had grown on her. She just hoped it had been quick, quicker than the beating she’d had to listen to through the flimsy partition of the vast barn as John tried to beg, to make them stop, swearing he hadn’t told the Guild anything at all.
Eventually the shouts had turned to frantic sobs, and he’d shattered, hard. She’d heard the low murmur of his voice, and known the Guild’s plan was compromised. But then, it had been compromised as soon as Deacon had arrested the witch in the first place. Reis had to have known John would spill about the Night Blade.
She heard the heavy footsteps of one of the trolls. This time, it was the bigger one, the one she now knew was the youngest. Beck. She cocked an eyebrow at him, trying to look calm.
“He’s dead?” she asked.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah,” Beck answered. “Why? Missing your lover boy already?”
“Not my lover boy,” she answered coolly. “I was just bait, you know that. I couldn’t care less about him.” Inside, she was furious. Damn it, she’d liked John. He’d had tenacity, and an upbeat optimism that nothing seemed to quell. She couldn’t bear to think of him bleeding and broken, and now simply gone.
“A bit of a waste,” she continued. “Had your boss really no use for him?”
“Yeah, she’s not really into traitors.” He leaned against a tractor, watching her. “She doesn’t believe in second chances. Tough guy to kill, though. Like a fucking cockroach. You and the angel saved him once. Then he was supposed to die at the Chapterhouse. It was meant to look like a nice little accident. But that went sideways.”
“The nut allergy thing? That was you?” She already knew the answer. These guys were heavy-handed mercenaries. They didn’t have the finesse for a job of that sort.
“’Course not. You think I mess around with stuff like poison? That’s for cowards.”
“So who, then? Reis has someone inside, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, see, you think you’re clever, but you’re really not. Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you, Blondie. And I think you’re lying, about the witch. About not caring. I saw your face when Clem was beating him up. You’re good at hiding things, I’ll give you that.”
“Maybe I just don’t enjoy having to listen to your methods,” she said distastefully.
He smirked. “Maybe.”
“So why am I still here? Where’s my beating? Don’t I get one, too?” Once again she tried casting out her Immortal Hunger, fishing for something, for a trickle of desire she could build upon and work with. But once again she found nothing. It was as if that thick troll skin could deflect more than a blade. She’d never met a creature that was naturally impervious to her particular brand of Hunger before.
Beck smiled. “While I’d love nothing better than to make Your Ladyship happy, we have a better use for you. Did you know there’s a tidy bounty on your head? Oh, we’ve done some digging on you since our little canary began to sing, Miss Darkwing.”
So they knew who she was. She wasn’t particularly surprised to find out she had a price on her head. She’d expected it, eventually. Maybe not until after the Moot, but still. She wasn’t going to complain if it was keeping her alive and in one piece.
Clem appeared at the partition door. “Beck, come and help me with the witch. Ground’s frozen too hard to bury him. We’ll wrap him and stash him somewhere out of the way.”
Beck thumbed in her direction. “When are they coming for her?”
“Should be here in another hour or so. Maybe two hours.”
“Two hours! I’m cold. Can’t we get out of this barn?” Beck whined.
“Nah, we stay. It’s a good enough hideout, and we have good money on its way. Suck it up, bro.”
“No beating, then?” Camille called out as they left. “What a shame. I feel like I’m missing out on the full experience here.” She smiled sweetly as Beck turned back, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
He gave a low growl of frustration, hand creeping up to his bandaged ear. “Believe me, after tha
t stunt you and the witch pulled, I’d like nothing better.”
Clem sighed heavily. “Leave her alone. Little bitch is just going to keep winding you up.” He dragged his brother away and they left the main room of the spacious barn, leaving Camille alone again with the cold and the nagging guilt that she should have been able to save John.
Camille immediately went back to wriggling her wrists. It felt like she’d been at it forever, but at least the tape was finally beginning to loosen. She didn’t think she could tear it completely, but if she could just get one hand free, she could summon her soul blade and maybe get out of this freezer of a barn.
She was about to take a break, arms screaming from the awkward motion, when the right side slackened. She curled her left fingers, gripping the tape, pulling at it, and suddenly she was loose. Her arms slumped forward in relief, the strain on her shoulders abruptly gone. She almost cried, it felt so good. But Clem and Beck would be back soon — she didn’t have time for moments of weakness. She drew her blade and sliced through the tape on her legs.
Camille stumbled to the barn door, legs still wobbly from captivity, though her demon healing was starting to kick in. She slipped outside, letting her soul blade shimmer out so the faint glow wouldn’t give her away. The sun had set, and she was thankful. It would be easier to hide in the dark. She could see the highway in the distance, but she didn’t dare walk straight there. It was too obvious. Instead, she set out in a roughly diagonal direction. She’d only gone a few steps when a dark shape stepped in front of her. She skidded to a stop, heart pounding, hand already reaching for her blade.
“Camille?” said a quiet voice.
“Deacon?”
“Sorry I’m late,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. “Where’s John?”
Camille hesitated, and she knew he’d read her brief silence.
“Shit,” he cursed, and Camille flinched. Deacon almost never swore; she was always teasing him about his “shoots” and “dang-its”.
“Where’s your car?” she asked. But before he could answer, the broad beam of a powerful flashlight carved the night, cleaving across their path and dazzling them momentarily.
Deacon grabbed Camille’s hand and set off, tugging her with him. “You’re faster than me,” he said, panting. He shoved his car keys at her. “Get out of here. The car’s in those trees, over there.”
Camille could see the tangled huddle of trees in the distance, highway lights throwing the black outline of bare branches into stark relief. Behind them, one set of footsteps crunched in the light snow, flashlight beam swinging erratically. She heard the roar of an engine.
“One of them is driving around to cut us off,” Deacon said grimly. “Camille, go!”
“No.” She surprised herself, even, her voice firm and steady. “I’m not leaving you.” She passed the keys back to him. “I’ve found a weak spot, I can take him. Keep going, draw him on.” They were passing a feeding trough of some sort, and Camille stopped, ducking behind it. Deacon’s step faltered. She waved him on. “Go!”
She wasn’t sure which of the brothers was after them, but she had her suspicions. It would be just like Clem to make Beck chase them across the fields, while he took the easy way and drove the van. She squatted behind the feeding trough, which was big enough for several animals. Cows, perhaps, or horses. At least it hid her well. Then the troll was there, and she was right, it was Beck.
Camille threw herself in front of him, tucked in a roll, and he tripped and went down in a face plant in the snow. She sliced at his other ear, an easy target in the glare of the downed flashlight, and when he roared in pain and turned to her on his knees, she gouged him straight in the eye, without hesitation.
She didn’t get deep enough, though. He batted the soul blade away with his arm. His mouth was open, still yelling in pain and fury, face a mess of blood. Camille yelled, too. “Shut up!” she screamed at him, plunging the sword straight into his open mouth. It slid in sideways, horribly easy, and just kept going. Beck gave a faint gurgle and toppled forward, driving it down further. It was yanked from her grasp as he landed in the snow. There was no more sound: his aura winked out and he was just as silent as the witch had been when they were done with him.
Camille fell to her knees, violently sick and shaking. There was nothing in her stomach, she hadn’t eaten since the morning, but still she threw up bile until she gagged on nothing. She took a shuddering breath, and forced herself to reach over the dead troll and switch off the flashlight. Her soul blade had shimmered out immediately when the troll had fallen, and she could feel it, a comforting presence inside her. She made herself get up, staggering off in the direction Deacon had headed. She’d only gone a few steps when she found him, returning for her.
She sagged gratefully against the solid wall of his chest, taking deep breaths until she felt better. Then she punched him lightly on the arm.
“You were supposed to keep going,” she whispered.
“You’re my partner, Camille,” he said firmly. “We’re friends, remember? I couldn’t leave you behind. Now come on, let’s get out of here.”
They’d made it almost to the shelter of the trees when they saw the van bump across the field and stop. Clement Kirkland had found his little brother. By the time they reached Deacon’s rental, Clem’s desperate howls had begun to fill the dark. Camille said nothing, but once they were back on the road she began to shake and couldn’t stop for a long, long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Del
When Del woke up, night had fallen. Beside her, Ash was fast asleep, his soft snores a gentle rumble in the semi-dark of the van. She rubbed her eyes and he stirred. The van’s clock read seven pm.
Alex and Dan were talking quietly in the next row of seats. She tried to listen in, but all she caught were the words, “—top priority when we return to the—” Alex broke off and turned, as though he sensed her small movement. He smiled.
“Sleep well? You both dozed off sometime around six.”
She yawned. “Hmm. I think I’m still half asleep. How much longer?”
“Perhaps another hour? It’s not far, now.”
Ash sighed against her, his breath tickling her cheek. She turned to brush her lips across his skin. “You awake?”
“Just about.” His fingers found hers, tangling together. He was relaxed, limbs heavy and loose, all tension temporarily erased or held at bay. She wished she could keep him like this, drowsy and beautiful. But as he woke fully, she felt the stiffness return.
She knew he was stressed about the Moot: about his deposition in Del’s case, and his own formal renouncement of the sentinel cause he would have to make on Sunday. She knew better than to apologize once again, though. He’d made it clear to her that she was his choice, and that nothing she could say would make him change his mind. So instead she kissed him — just a gentle press of her lips against his.
He smiled against her, and then teased her mouth open with the tip of his tongue, deepening the kiss until her heart beat fast and her eyes fluttered shut, her hands clutching at the front of his shirt even as one of his slid down to her thigh. There was a small cough from Dan, and they pulled apart reluctantly, both breathing hard. Ash kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arm around her, as outside the miles raced by in the dark.
***
The Court of the Covenant was housed in a sprawling property on the edge of a lake, nestled in the middle of the Adirondacks. Del caught a brief glimpse of a sign at the open gates that read “Winchester Research and Convention Center”. She remembered reading somewhere that this was a convenient front, named for the city the Covenant had been signed in.
The van swept up a tree-lined drive and pulled up in front of a grand entrance that spilled light across bare rosebushes and snow-capped shrubbery. Elegant white string lights and beribboned strands of greenery decorated the entryway, and the large double doors were hung with expensive-looking Christmas wreaths. A doorman awaited, a large, heavyset man
with a dark orange aura.
“Troll,” Ash said in her ear, careful to keep his voice low because of the human van driver.
The driver gave a low whistle. “Nice place! Does it work as a hotel, too?”
“Sort of,” Alex replied. “But it only does private functions.”
“Ah,” said the driver. “Shame. My wife would love something like this. Got a big anniversary coming up, you know? But never mind.”
He got out, still chattering, and Dan and Alex followed. The troll doorman was already unloading the back, piling bags onto a trolley. The doorman carefully hung up the garment bags with their clothes for the gala ball, and pushed the whole lot inside. Del and Ash trailed after him as the van pulled away, heading back to Canada.
Del stopped inside the entrance. “Wow!” She’d thought the Chapterhouse was nice with its solemn wooden paneling and stone archways, but this was something else. Crystal chandeliers glinted above, and the pale walls were tastefully decorated with serene oil landscapes. Here and there, in gilded display cabinets, she caught a glimpse of different works of art: vases, sculptures, even something she thought might have been a Fabergé egg.
The troll cleared his throat pointedly. His nametag read “Bob”. Alex pushed ahead of Del, nodded at Bob, and swept into a side office marked Reception, his monk’s robes rustling gently. Through the open French doors, Del could see him talking to the slender witch manning the desk. She laughed at something he said, and he returned with a clutch of keys. They were the old-fashioned sort, big and iron-wrought. Evidently the Court didn’t believe in swipe-card technology.
He handed one to each of them. “Del, you’re with Camille. Ash is with his father. Deacon’s not here yet, they got delayed. But he’s been in touch, and they should arrive soon.”
Night Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book Two Page 13