The fact was he didn’t really have any physically redeeming qualities.
But if he’d decided you’d earned his loyalty…well, then you had it.
I’d seen that in action.
On the flipside, if you’d fucked him over, it was best to either get the hell out of dodge, or maybe just die before he took care of that for you.
His name was Brahm.
As he directed penetrating brown eyes on me, I managed a polite nod.
He didn’t give much of an indicator he’d noticed, but he didn’t curl his lip the way he did when Xavier started toward him, both arms extended as if he planned on hugging the war dog.
The heat spiked.
Xavier’s smile widened.
“You’ll get used to me, old man.”
“About as soon as you grow some common sense, youngling,” Brahm said. His voice was rough and deep, like rocks crashing down a hill.
He looked at me then, a brow rising up. After offering a nod, he settled his heavy, broad girth on a seat. A sigh escaped him and he tipped his head back, pondering the ceiling as if held something fascinating.
Brahm wasn’t comfortable to be around, but a lot of the Red Branch witches weren’t. By and large, most of them were warriors and whatever skills they had tended to be volatile—and violent. Brahm’s was no different. I knew one other pyrokinetic, although she was a lot more mentally unstable than Brahm was.
She was also a witch with Green Road. Looking into her eyes was like gazing into the eyes of an animal you weren’t quite certain if it was tame or not—and even if it was, it still might decide to kill you.
Brahm, of course, didn’t lack at all when it came to mental faculties. If he decided to kill somebody, he did it with all his mental facilities in order.
Come to think it, I wasn’t sure which one was more unsettling.
The only inkling you got about Brahm’s power was that sitting next to him was miserable, like sitting next to a portable sauna that you couldn’t escape. It resulted in most keeping a good five or ten feet space between them.
He never acted like he noticed.
Somehow, I knew he did.
I didn’t bother to take one of the open seats in the gathering hall, leaning instead against the wall, watching as a few more people trickled in.
The gathering hall.
Such a formal name. The Orlando house wasn’t a monied one but like every other witch house I’d been to, they had a gathering hall, and like most of Green Road, it was warm and inviting…unless you were me, and unless you had the news to deliver that I had.
I could still feel Brahm looking at me, and now, he wasn’t the only one.
As an odd silence fell over the room, I blew out a breath and squared my shoulders.
My hand itched and I had to resist the urge to put it on the blade at my side. I didn’t need it, especially not here.
Slowly, I started for the front of the room, moving along the far left of the room. Eyes drifted toward me. My knuckles brushed the wall as I kept as much distance as possible between myself and the those in the room.
It wasn’t just witches of the Road who’d gathered for the meeting..
Red Branch, Blue Sky, White Cloud. Some independents. Any witch in acceptable standing with Green Road was welcome in the gathering hall during times of potential crisis and I’d told them this was urgent.
Yet as I moved slowly toward the front, I sensed no fear, no surprise or anxiety.
And the man who stepped forward to greet me wasn’t one of the Road.
I even knew him.
He didn’t belong to any house—he was an independent. And more…he was a hired sword.
He stepped toward me as I finally drew free from the galley of the room and his head inclined. “Hello, Kit.”
“Padraig.”
His teeth flashed white in his beard and he offered a hand. “You look surprised to see me.”
“A bit. I thought you were independent.” Reaching out, I accepted the offered hand. He didn’t give a formal handshake. Rather, he gripped my wrist. In turn, I did the same and we studied each other.
I hadn’t seen him in months.
He’d fought with Justin and me when we’d dealt with Pandora. He’d helped when we were working to track down information on NHs as they went missing.
I knew he had connections to Banner, but beyond that…I didn’t know much about him.
“I am…and for good reason. But I had a…well, we’ll say it was a compelling voice telling me it was time I stood up and shared some information.” He glanced ruefully over my shoulder. “My father can be a persuasive son of a bitch.”
“Your father…?” I echoed, following the line his gaze had taken.
My jaw dropped when I saw just who he was looking at.
Was he was telling me…
“Say what?”
Padraig laughed now, the sound booming, echoing around the room.
I was still staring at Brahm though and a faint smile curled the old bastard’s lips. Then, to my surprise, he hitched up a shoulder in a shrug.
If Brahm was Padraig’s daddy, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know who mama was. A harpy?
Padraig’s lip curled in a sneer and it dawned on me—that sneer was familiar. I’d seen it a dozen times, but just hadn’t figured out where until just now. “You really should learn to hide your thoughts better,” he said in a low voice, moving forward so he could murmur the words so quietly, nobody else would hear.
Caught offguard, I drew back. “I’m not used to witches who can pick up on thoughts. Tell me, since Daddy is here, can I assume your mother will be joining us?”
“Hard for that.” He shrugged. Silence fell between us for a moment, then he met my eyes, a grim look set to his features. “She died an ugly sort of death a few years back. Courtesy of Brahm.”
He didn’t elaborate, just turned and moved to the dais, leaping up easily. As he swung around to face the group, I swallowed my shock and smoothed out my features.
That was a story I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
I guess we all had issues.
⸸
“The Greaves boy called me.”
Brahm’s gravelly voice came from behind me just before I would have climbed into the car.
Pausing, I turned to meet his gaze, expecting to find him a few feet away, but he stood a good dozen.
Cocking my head, I waited.
He approached a bit more slowly. “I talked to him, then the girl. Redhead from the Road here.” He paused, squinting his eyes as he searching his memory. “Colleen, right?”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
He nodded, the movement ponderous and slow. “She’s still a witch. Tell her that, okay? Been a while since I seen a healer go through what she’s had to handle, but she’s still a witch. You can’t change the core of somebody after all.” Now, as he smiled, his steely eyes all but disappeared as wrinkles folded up around them. “Only the person can can do that. Outside forces? They’re just that. Outside.”
He gave me another nod. “I’ll be around for a bit. Ugly business in the works, girl. Ugly business.”
Then he turned and moved off, the air all but bending around him and yielding to the energy he emanated. From the corner of my eye, I saw Padraig and Doyle approaching, speaking in low voices. Doyle broke off and headed toward his car after he caught sight of me, giving me just a simple nod.
But Padraig came straight toward me.
“You have about two dozen questions dancing in your eyes,” he said, the lilt of Ireland in his voice. It must come from his mother’s side—that Irish. Brahm had an accident but it was more western European, mingled with the mash-up of a man who spoke and knew a good dozen languages.
“No, I don’t.” With an easy shrug, I glanced toward Brahm. “It’s more like two hundred. But there’s a time and a place. And right now? I need to get to the Lair.”
“Yes, you do.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Br
ahm and I are staying here for the time being. We’ll help watch the Road.”
He turned to go, but stopped when I said his name. I had to take care with each word, struggling to articulate a thought that had been plaguing me. “Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s my paranoia…you know how I am.” Restless energy burned in me, but I remained still, knowing if I moved or paced or even played with a weapon, it would reveal too much. And I couldn’t do that right now. I didn’t want this to come off wrong. “But it seemed like you…knew. Some of you knew this was coming.”
To my surprise, Padraig smiled.
It was a sad smile, though. “We did. Or rather, I did. I briefed some within the Road today.”
After a quick look around, he approached. I caught the way he sketched his left hand through the air, but the magic he cast was so subtle, I didn’t even feel it, save for the odd way my ears popped. Resisting the urge to crack my jaw, I arched a brow. “I take it this is between us and the squirrels?”
“Maybe a rat or two. The sewers are lousy with them…regular rats, of course.” Arms crossed over his chest, he stood spread-legged in front of me. “My mother was a witch out of White Cloud, Kit. She went crazy. Brahm had to kill her when I was nine. He’s kept most of that history quiet for…understandable reasons.”
He paused, making sure I followed.
I did.
White Cloud seers were possessive, and many of them were laden with power. They were also remained one of the more closed-off, insular Houses. They didn’t like sharing their skills, their witches…their prodigy. Not without a price, at least.
“Her gift was still reliable, wasn’t it?” I asked quietly.
Padraig cocked a brow. “Her gift was the only thing still reliable. Even her memories were starting to falter. But that didn’t matter to the Cloud. They still wanted her…and me.”
“So you had started to manifest.”
“It’s a lesser gift.” He twirled a finger in the air between us. I watched as an eddy formed out of nowhere, sucking up the gravel and dirt until a miniature tornado, like a toy if such a thing existed, hovered between us. “This is my true power. Glad of it, too. Keeps me sane.”
“You toss tornadoes around. Don’t know how you can call yourself sane,” I said, but the attempt at sarcasm was weak.
“Hey, playing with those keeps me sane.” He spread his fingers wide over the little tornado, then clenched his hand into a tight fist. In a blink, the tiny twister was gone. “And I’ll take these over that crazy shit that my mother had to deal with. And it was crazy— made her crazy, too. But…what gift I did get from her is stable. And pretty damn accurate.”
His eyes flicked to meet mine. “I saw Amund’s death well over a year ago. What comes next…who knows? I only see specific incidents, not the fallout, not the causes. But I knew it was coming. I can feel it in my gut as things are about to draw near and the dreams get more vivid, like a washed-out photo suddenly taking on new life.” He shrugged and I realized he was as uneasy about these things as I was. “We’ve been preparing for this, the houses. I alerted told the General membership today and the independents now know all we know as well. But the mothers and fathers of each house in the region have been…made aware that some major change would happen within the city and it would have devastating effects. No young witches are in residence here. The only healers in the area are those who are ready and willing to deal with battle fallout.”
His lashes fell low over his eyes, then he looked at me full-on, gaze glowing. “There is a battle coming, Kit. That’s the other thing I know. I don’t know what sets it off, how it ends or anything else. But it’s coming. And soon.”
Chapter Fourteen
A battle is coming, Kit…and soon.
I stood at the foot of the stairs of Banner HQ and thought about how nice it would be to climb into my car and drive—just drive away.
Not that I would.
Even if I didn’t feel like I was involved in this because of Amund, even if I didn’t have the connection to this place because of Damon and the clan, I knew I wouldn’t have left.
But those words delivered so somberly by Padraig made me wish I wasn’t who I was.
And right now, I wished it even more.
I didn’t want to walk into Banner and tell them what was coming.
These assholes had brought a world of misery on Justin. They were responsible, indirectly, for the suffering Colleen was dealing with.
They had even made it possible, in a way, for Puck to do what he’d done. They’d opened the door. He’d simply walked through.
But not everybody who passed through these doors was a bureaucratic asshole.
And even if they were…
You care…
Damon’s words rose to taunt me from the back of my mind and I muttered, “Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I’ll stop.”
It didn’t happen in the next five seconds, though. So I started up the steps, feeling the tension building at the base of my neck as I drew closer and closer.
I hadn’t been here by myself in ages.
The rare times I did come in here it was almost always with Justin at my side. The last few jobs I’d taken had been with Doyle. Before that…hell, I hadn’t been here alone since Justin had told me what they’d threatened to do to him—stick him in a cage.
Grappling with a new, rare power and instead of being decent and helping him, they’d threatened him.
We’ll train you—then you owe us a piece of your life after.
The doors were an opaque silver and after I pushed my hand to the ID pad, I stood there staring at my reflection. The woman who met my gaze looked pissed off and icy.
I cracked my neck and wondered just what it was the people on the other side of the glass thought when they looked at me.
Nearly a minute passed before I was admitted and I was only cleared to the front desk where two mortals in combat gear waited, along with a shifter who stood nearly as tall as Goliath. He didn’t have Goliath’s bulk, though.
And he wasn’t a wolf or cat.
The musk he gave off tingled my nose and I fought back a sneeze.
A bear. They had a bear running the desk at Banner.
Since when were there any bear shifters in Florida?
I shook the thoughts clear of my head as the two armed mortals approached.
“You’re required to surrender all weapons.”
I’d expected as much and had left the ones that mattered in my car.
After taking a blade from my right boot and one from my hip, I stepped away from them.
“Where’s the sword?” the woman asked, checking something on the data pad she held.
“I locked it up before I came in.”
Her lashes fell over dark eyes for a brief moment, then she looked over at her partner.
“We request to see the sword before allowing you to come inside.”
Running my tongue across my teeth, I studied her. Then I shrugged. “Fine.” I held out my hands for the two blades I’d turned over.
“You may have these when you leave,” her partner said.
“I am leaving.”
“You haven’t completed your business here.” The woman—the name on her uniform read Chavez—cocked her head. “You said you wanted to speak with one of the agents in charge.”
“And I’ve changed my mind.” Wiggling my fingers, I said, “Can I have my weapons?”
“Why have you changed your mind?” Her partner, J. Lovetz, gave me a piercing scowl.
“Because I’m only required to turn over the weapons I have in my possession. The sword isn’t on me. I’m not fetching it and letting you take it from me.” Since neither of them showed any interest in returning my blades, I shrugged and turned to the desk. Bending over the larger data pad there used for signing in and out, I signed out, including a comment that I’d been unable to complete my business and two of my weapons hadn’t been returned.
The bear shifter’s brow went up as I s
traightened.
He would have seen my response on his end of the computer.
“I assume whatever it is you wanted to discuss with an agent wasn’t important then,” Chavez said.
“Oh, it was.” I gave her a wide smile. “And when Banner contacts me in a day or two to ask why I didn’t share information, I’ll be sure to let him know you and your partner are the reason.”
I heard a faint cough come from the bear as I turned back to the doors.
They didn’t open right away.
Something too close to fear skittered inside but I shoved it down.
Turning my head, I looked over my shoulder. “I’ve got meetings with the Alphas next. If you plan to delay me, you might want to let me notify them. You wouldn’t want Alpha Lee showing up here.”
A moment later, the doors opened and I headed outside in an unhurried pace.
The bear would have known I lied, but the humans wouldn’t.
I doubted he’d rat me out.
He might work for Banner, but the shifters and other NHs who signed on to work for the federal agency did so for one reason—they wanted to keep the peace so bloodshed didn’t spread and spill out.
NHs were always the first targets when that happened.
“Ms. Colbana.”
Halfway to my ride, I heard a voice. Fighting the tension that wanted to crawl up my spine, I stopped and half-turned, watching as a silver-haired man approached.
Despite the color of his hair, his face was smooth and unlined. A pair of glasses made his eyes somewhat hard to read.
He was human, but the only scents I caught from him were coffee…and aggravation.
“I’m Agent Brendan. I monitor East Orlando—along with several other field agents. I’m told you wished to speak with one of us.”
Flicking a look passed him, I eyed the silver dome of Banner HQ for a long moment, then I met his gaze again.
“Is there any reason I was requested to turn over weapons I wasn’t even carrying?” I asked as he came closer.
He stopped five feet away and gave me a smile that was surprisingly charming—and disarming.
“Ms. Colbana, while it’s a phenomena nobody at Banner has been able to explain, quite a few of us are aware that you don’t have to be carrying that sword for you to be able to…” He paused, his smile widening a fraction. “How should I say this…it’s almost like you pull it out of thin air.”
Haunted Blade (Colbana Files Book 6) Page 13