He turned to go, but stopped when I called out his name. He turned, dark eyes unreadable.
“You’re the…” I hesitated before continuing. “Shit, you’re the oldest non-human I’ve ever come across. Well, one of them.”
A faint smile quirked up the corners of his mouth, but it wasn’t reflected in his eyes. That, more than anything else, worried me. “Am I so obvious, Kit?”
“Ha, ha. Did you…you’ve seen this before, right?”
Chang glanced toward, surprisingly, Dair, not Damon. Then he offered an elegant shrug. “Older vampires die one of two ways, Kit. Understand, mind you, this is a delicate thing, something they keep quiet. Much the same way we, within the shifter community, do. The last thing we need is for outsiders to understand the dangers that an older NH can become as they age. Our control is our greatest strength, but we must choose to use it.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of control?”
“It is.” He gave a short nod. “But at some point, there are those who see less appeal in…control and more appeal in chaos. I must go.”
He left, and as the door shut quietly behind him, I had to fight the urge to wrap my arms around myself. A chill settled deep inside me. A quick look at Dair, then Damon, didn’t do much to settle my nerves. “What do you all plan to do?”
Dair had been in the middle of tapping out something on the data pad he held. He lifted one finger to indicate he’d answer in a moment, so I looked over at Damon. He was watching me with close, intense eyes. That didn’t do much to settle my nerves either. It wasn’t because I wasn’t used to him watching me closely. That was all Damon did when it came to me. Although most of the time, he was watching me with a look in his eyes that said he was either annoyed or he was ready to get me naked. Or he was trying to figure me out.
Right now, I couldn’t quite peg the look in his eyes, but it had me wary in a way I hadn’t been around him in…months. To be honest, I don’t think I’d been this wary around him since the days in which we’d first met.
If it hadn’t been for Dair’s presence, I would have demanded to know what was going on. I might not have gotten an answer, but I would have felt better, just for releasing some of the tension inside me.
“I still need to go alert the House of Witches,” I said, smoothing down my tunic as I came to my feet. I wasn’t going to stay there and fret over the look in his eyes. “There are others who need to be advised.”
“Fine.” Damon tapped his fingers on his thigh. “You’re taking the kid.”
The kid could only be one person and he was fast coming to the point to where kid wouldn’t apply.
Still…
“Is there a reason why I have to take Doyle?”
Damon unfolded from his own chair in a lithe, liquid movement that belied the fact that he had bones just like me. He made everything seem so damn graceful, like a choreographed ballet. With a jerk of his head toward the door, he indicated that I should follow.
Deliberately, I waited where I was until he had already opened the door and then I stood there a few more seconds until he turned his head and focused his pale grey eyes on me. “Oh, did you want me to join you?” I asked, fluttering my lashes. “You should have said so.”
A muscle pulsed in his cheek, although I knew it had nothing to do with my mouth. He was used to that by now.
Something else had him worked up and now I had to wonder if maybe there hadn’t been something chewing on his excellent ass for a while.
Sauntering toward him, I paused by the door long enough to look back at Dair. The wolf Alpha glanced at me, a faint frown marring his face. He slid a look between me and Damon, then nodded. “I’ll be in touch when needed, Kit. But I’ll be increasing security and those of mine who are…less capable will be called in for the time being. I thank you for the warning.”
Damon brushed his fingers down my arm.
Meeting Dair’s eyes, I said, “There are a lot of NH people in the area who are…less capable. Not all of them are shifters.”
“Quite.” Dair inclined his head. But that was the only response he gave.
Clenching my jaw, I told myself to let it go.
I couldn’t. “You know, I could have kept this information to myself. I could have called the people who mattered the most to me and told them to lock up those they loved and lay low. All I have to do is stay in the Lair for the next few days. But I didn’t. I came to you and Damon and Chang. I’m getting word to the witches and whoever else I can.”
Next to me, I could feel Damon’s growing impatience and all it did was piss me off.
“Is there a point to this?” Dair asked mildly.
“If even one of your wolves live because of the actions I took, remember…it’s because of the actions I took. And if even one non-shifter dies because of inactions your wolves take?” I paused, letting the words sink in. “I’ll remember.”
With that, I turned and glared at Damon.
Shoving past him, I followed him out into the hall, letting the heavy door fall shut behind us. I heard the faint hiss at it closed, sealing shut. Chang had asked to meet at the rec center, in his office, and his office, like Damon’s quarters at the Lair, were sound-proofed.
Now that I knew Dair wasn’t going to hear us, I whirled on Damon and glared at him.
“Don't you ever give me a look like you’re calling me to heel.” I jabbed him in the chest. For my efforts, I ended up with a sore finger. It was worth it.
“Was I calling you to heel?” He rubbed his jaw, studying me with curious eyes. “I’d think that would involve the expectation of some sort of submissive action. You can’t even just follow without getting in a snit.”
“A snit. You jerk your head at me like I’m one of your cats and expect instant obedience—and you think me getting pissed off about it is a snit? I’m so fucking tempted to punch you but I’m going to need my hands later.” If I hit him, I’d end up with broken bones and he wouldn’t even have a bruise. I knew better. Experience is a painful teacher.
“If you tell me you plan on calling in all your weaker people and leaving everybody who isn’t a shifter to deal with it on their own, I’ve only got one thing to say—”
Damon cut me off with a hard, swift kiss.
“Don’t think you—”
He caught my lower lip between his teeth.
“Can change my mind.”
He bit me.
“Sex isn’t going to affect how I feel about this. And we’re in the hall. Anybody could see us.”
His lips slid along my cheek, up to my ear. “If sex could change your mind, you wouldn’t be who you are, now would you?”
“I didn’t just tell the three of you so you could make sure the shifters were protected and fuck everybody else, Damon.”
Maybe some of the despair I felt managed to creep into my voice because he pulled back and draped his arms over my shoulders. Gray eyes bored into mine. “I’m going to be honest with you, kitten.” Voice rough, guttural and low, he continued, “Before I knew you, before I met you, if somebody had delivered me this news, I wouldn’t have given a fuck. Even if I was somehow Alpha, all I would have done was given the word to pull back—everybody inside the Lair or their homes and whoever didn’t listen, too bad for them.”
Staring into his eyes, I waited, unable to speak.
“But I do know you. And damned if you haven’t changed how I see everything.” He sighed, cupping my cheek in one big hand. “See, you’re not a shifter. You’re a little bit human, you’re a little bit Amazon…and more than a little bit of a bitch at times, too. And you’re the best person I’ve ever known. And I would have lost you several times over if it wasn’t for people who also aren’t shifters.” His shoulders moved, the shrug restless and lacking the grace that went down to his bones. “People should matter. It doesn’t matter who they are or what race they were born in to. They should matter. You’d go to the wall for just about anybody—you did it for Doyle. You did it for me, even t
hough I need help about as much as a brick wall does. You do it for Justin, Colleen, humans…it doesn’t matter to you.”
Tears burned my eyes so I closed them. I wasn’t so sure how I felt about hearing this from him.
He kissed the curve of my neck. “Where’s that mouthy bitch at now, little girl?”
I drove my fist into his gut.
“There she is…” He chuckled. “So…to answer your question, I’ve already got Scott organizing patrols. He knows how to recognize vamps in blood craze, just as his men do. They’ll be on the watch. Now, you…go do…” Another restless shrug. “Whatever it is you have to do. I’ll have Doyle meet you at the Road.”
“How do you know that’s where I’m going?”
His only response was a smile.
⸸
Justin wouldn’t meet me at Green Road.
One of my best friends, I knew and understood why he’d made that decision. He had no problems with the Road, but he wasn’t leaving Colleen and Colleen wasn’t coming to the House just yet.
She was…hell, I don’t know if afraid touched it.
But Justin had said once I got there, I could call and he’d listen in via a telelink.
It would have to do.
He’d also reached out via his contacts and sent me a text to let me know other heads of house would be there when I got to the Road. Plus…some other important voices.
I wasn’t sure what that meant until I climbed out of my car and saw a few familiar faces prowling around. I recognized Targe and frowned at the sight of her. She was so strongly attached to her duties with the Assembly, I sometimes forgot she had any witch blood in her. Which was stupid, because she felt like a witch. Like a witch, fae, shifter. That was because she had the blood of all three running inside her. It resulted in unpredictable, chaotic powers that could fizzle out when she needed them the most or explode like a supernova when all she’d wanted to do was light a fire.
Another familiar face was Jennifer Southland, an off-shoot of indeterminate lineage, power and skill. A statuesque redhead who hovered somewhere just under six feet tall, she would have cut a commanding figure anywhere.
In a city where half the inhabitants had fangs or grew claws, she was even more of a sight—she never went anywhere without being fully loaded and for here, that meant a modified Desert Eagle Mark XIX strapped to one thigh while a blade as long as my forearm was strapped to the other.
And those were just the visible weapons.
As one of the offshoots, she had other…abilities…she didn’t exactly advertise.
She was the unofficial leader of a group of others in the Orlando area, NHs who were mostly of witch blood but some other strange or watered down blood lines that added up to be more than human, yet didn’t quite quantify as anything in particular.
I knew Jennifer through the Assembly. We’d worked a few jobs together, mostly as part of a team and while I respected her work, she made me uneasy as hell.
“Hello, Jennifer.”
“Kit.” She glanced at the Road over her shoulder. “Justin Greaves said you had important news. The Road isn’t letting the likes of me inside without an escort, though. Hope you can see me through the door.”
I wondered why, but I wasn’t about to ask. It might be rude.
The low hum of a powerful motor approaching kept either of us from saying anything else and we turned as one to watch as a car pulled into the lot. Neither of us fully took our eyes from the other, although it was more habit than anything else. I wouldn’t call Jennifer a friend, but I wouldn’t call her an adversary either.
I didn’t recognize the tall, thin black man who climbed out of the sedate black sedan. It was as unassuming as he was, and that was a dead giveaway.
The man gave off every impression of being human. He even smelled human.
“Psychic,” Jennifer said in a low voice. “Arrived in Orlando about six months ago. Pretty low key, but he’s going to be the name around here for a while.”
“Is that what they’re saying?” a voice replied—but it didn’t come from me, or her, or anybody else that we could see. Or rather, it didn’t seem to. The question echoed, inside us, around us.
And it could only belong to the psychic.
“A showoff,” I drawled, crossing my arms over my chest.
His brows ratcheted up over his eyes for the briefest second and I felt the press inside my skull—subtle and light. Just not light enough. Casually, I pulled one of the daggers from it’s place in my vest and started to toy with it. “You try a trick like that again, I’m going to show you some of mine,” I said as I made the blade dance over my fingers. It caught the watery light shining through the clouds and a shard glinted off his face as he came to a stop ten feet away.
“You’re nicer than I am, Kit.” Jennifer stared the man down. “He tries that bullshit on me, I’ll carve him up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I won’t bother with a warning either.”
“Hey, now…habit. Bad one, I know.” He gave me an easy, charming smile before nodding at Jennifer. His eyes slid to Targe as the other woman moved to join us. “Targe…darling, you look lovely.”
“Turn those eyes elsewhere, you mongrel.” She had a laugh in her voice. She glanced at me. “Kit, this is Xavier. He’s worse than a dog in heat, but he’s decent people, Colbana.”
The ‘decent people’ followed orders and slid his eyes toward me. His voice was rather lovely, liquid and deep, and he moved closer, offering a hand. “I don’t know you.”
“No.”
A wide smile split his dark face, hand still outstretched. “A lady of many words.”
Targe pretended to hide her laugh behind a cough as I slowly went to accept his hand.
But he didn’t shake—instead, he started to bend low.
He stopped, though, slowly straightening as one more person arrived on scene.
Actually, that person had been there. I’d felt him arrive a few moments earlier—had sensed him before that. The slamming of the door after he climbed out was oddly…ominous and gravel crunched under his boots with each slow, deliberate step.
Doyle did not look happy.
Reflexively, I pulled my hand away from the smooth-talking psychic, rubbing it against my trousers as Doyle continued to draw closer.
Judging by the looks of surprise on the faces of the others—all quickly concealed—he was getting better at hiding his presence, and the rapidly growing power.
It was harder to do it with me, simply because of my nature—and likely because of my dual connections to him, through Damon and through our familial line.
“Hey,” I said, leaving the kid off. The boyish softness had faded in the past months and he no longer resembled the boy I’d saved. He was a tall, powerful-looking young man who hadn’t even come close to hitting his full maturity.
Blond hair fell into his eyes but he didn’t bother pushing it back. Blue eyes, pale and soft like the summer sky, met mine briefly before moving to linger on each of those who stood behind me.
Normally, I wouldn’t leave anybody at my back.
But Doyle being there changed things—and I knew why he was there, too.
Specifically to watch my back.
Because the boyish softness had faded, and because he was there under orders, I didn’t reach up to hug him, or brush his unruly hair back.
The openness between us hadn’t faded but it was changing. I guess it was to be expected. He was fast on his way to becoming one of Damon’s toughest soldiers.
And soldiers learned not to betray weaknesses.
I was a weakness. I hated it, but it was a fact.
“The Alpha told me to be at your beck and call, my lady.” Doyle dipped his head to me. The formality of it, the stiffness of his features left me unsettled and I knew what was causing it, too.
He didn’t even have to send that searing blue gaze toward Xavier.
But he did.
Shit.
I guess it could have been worse.
Damon would have made his mark known in more obvious ways. Doyle just stood there, practically growling and making it obvious that he had a problem.
Xavier looked amused by it all, too, looking from me to the kid, eyes practically dancing.
Sometimes men were just a pain in the ass.
⸸
I didn’t recognize many of the witches gathered inside.
It wasn’t a surprise. I’d steered clear of Green Road for several years, even after Colleen had reconciled with them. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I held grudges.
I didn’t.
Not really.
But I sure as hell didn’t have much use for somebody who’d toss a woman and her kid out because the kid hadn’t shown talent and was a drain on resources. Not that it had been said in so many words, but the proof was in the batter—or pudding. Whatever that meant. Only so many kids could be schooled in the house and a kid who showed no magical talent meant that teachers were spending time and resources that they hadn’t had to spare on Mandy.
Then, after Colleen caught wind of the problem and left, her pride too strong to let her stay, Mandy had gotten sick within six months.
This whole place gave me a bad, bad headache and being back inside these doors was making me tense.
A familiar heat pricked my skin and I looked up, an unwitting smile curling my lips as I sought out the witch responsible. I hadn’t seen him, but he was here. I felt him.
Him—a witch of Red Branch, a warrior who might have been around back when the flood happened. If not, he had definitely heard stories about it, straight from the survivors.
I still wouldn’t want to take him on in fight—nor would I want him pissed off at me.
He was what I’d call a war dog, scruffy and broad, his body roped with muscle, his short, iron-gray hair cut so that it stood up in stubbly bristle all over his head. He had a face that looked like it had been smashed with a sledgehammer, and more than once.
Haunted Blade (Colbana Files Book 6) Page 12