Blood Rage, page 22
“So you’ve been off again?”
Norma gives a cackle of alarm. Clearly she didn’t notice him either.
I stop dead, my fingers loose on the spearhead. “What are you doing here?”
He snarls. “Fiona wanted to see you, and neither of you were answering your phones, so I came out to find you. No you, though, just an empty van, no sign, no note, no warning, just gone. I was preparing to follow you.”
Rayne looks at me.
I hesitate. “I—”
“I thought we were a team.” Rather than angry, Duo sounds hurt. “We’re friends, aren’t we? You’re our boss, sure, but we’re a team. Friends.”
“We are, but—”
“Then where have you been?”
The simple question slaps so hard I almost stumble at it. “I…” Again, I look at Rayne.
Duo bristles. “Stop trying to figure out the lie—you know I can just check. All I need to do is follow your scent, so you might as well tell me. Where did you go?”
Slowly, I hold up the shiny, ancient spearhead. “We had to collect this.”
He eyes it coolly. “Nice trinket. But why do you smell like a vintage auction? You’re covered in the scent of old stuff. And you’re wet. And you’re sick again.”
That catches my attention. “What?”
“Whatever laid you out yesterday, you’ve done it again. The scent of it is all over you. If you were going into danger, why didn’t you tell us? Why wouldn’t you let us help?”
I press my hand to my thigh. So the darts are affecting me. But at least I’m not flying through space and seeing stars again. Thank you, Bruce Dixon.
“It was supposed to be secret.”
“You told Rayne.” Duo thrusts an accusing finger in her direction.
“That’s different, she—”
“She’s your girlfriend?” If possible, Duo’s voice becomes cooler still. “Or she’s a vampire? She’s a woman? You’re boning her? Come on, which is it that makes her more trustworthy than me and Solo?”
Wow, oh wow. His hurt is palpable now.
On the ground, curious and concerned, Norma shares her gaze between us. She looks like a viewer at a tennis match, but her throaty little croaks tell the story of her distress.
“It’s not like that. Duo, I’m sorry. It was a special mission and—”
“SPEAR sanctioned this?” His orange eyebrows lift quizzically. “Then why would it be secret from us? We’re agents too.”
I tuck the spear into my waistband to free my hands. “Not from SPEAR.”
The hurt morphs into disdain. “Work on the side, Danika? Have you forgotten what happened last time you did that?”
Okay, double ouch.
“I’m fulfilling a favour,” I shoot back as my own temper begins to rise. “You know, just because we’re a team doesn’t mean you have the right to know every small detail of my life.”
A low snarl. “No, just the details required to keep us on hand like good little guard dogs.” Duo backs off and starts walking away. “Like I said, Fiona wants you. Come or don’t, I don’t care.”
I take a step after him. “Duo, please—”
He lifts a hand, displaying the back of his middle finger.
Rayne catches my arm. “Let him go.”
So I do. I watch him walk slowly up the little slope and out of sight around the little cluster of trees that form a partial wall against intruding eyes.
“Fuck.”
So much for the feel-good of the last half hour or so.
“He’ll be fine.”
I nod, but I’m not so sure. Duo is a sensitive kind of guy, with such a strong sense of loyalty and honour. I know some of that comes from his pack, but the rest is rooted simply in the sort of man he is. His hurt and confusion over his omission comes from a genuine desire to do right by those he cares for.
I should be lucky to count myself as one of those people.
“What am I going to do?”
“Visit Fiona,” Rayne says. “It must be important if she wants to see you after…earlier. Duo will come round.”
I nod. Maybe he will, but he has a twin brother.
Solo is far harder and harsher than Duo. His loyalty sometimes manifests in violence to protect those he cares for and a strong outburst towards those who do him wrong. I realise abruptly that while Duo might forgive me, Solo will be the hard one to convince.
“What are you going to do with that?” She points to the spearhead tucked into my waist.
“I’m not taking my eyes off this thing even for a second. It was hard enough to get—I want to know where it is at all times.”
We walk back together, Rayne quiet and pensive, me distressed and distracted from our victory. Close by, clearly picking up my mood, Norma climbs up my body to rest on my shoulder. She seems to prefer my shoulder when I’m upset, the better to be closer to my face.
I’m grateful for it.
One hand gently stroking her back, I chew my lip as I go, wondering what Duo has said to his brother and how they’ll react once we’re all in the same spot. In truth, I’m distracted enough that I barely notice how out in the open we are until Rayne’s grip tightens on my other hand.
When I follow her gaze, I notice a small face in the window of one of the houses, peering out at us.
“Is that…?”
Rayne grips tighter on my hand. “She’s watching us.”
I fight the urge to make daft faces at the small sliver of Linda’s face just visible behind her curtains.
“Screw her. We’re nearly done here, anyway. There’s nothing more she can do.”
“Don’t assume that. She’s…resourceful.”
I try to assess what she means by that. “You never told me you were engaged, by the way.”
The grip on my hand slackens, then drops away entirely. “It was a long time ago.”
“She’s still not over it.”
Rayne stops walking. She looks down at the ground. “I…we…” Her expression is so pained, her voice so small.
I want to know. Fuck, I really, really want to know but not if it’s going to make her look like this.
“Don’t worry about it.” I wave my hand to dismiss the answer. “Now isn’t the time, and you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“I don’t like keeping secrets from you.”
“It’s not a secret. You can tell me another time.”
She nibbles her bottom lip. “I asked her to marry me just as we finished school. She was so refined and beautiful and perfect, and I was a short wastrel of an orphan with no prospects. She said yes straight away.”
My mouth opens automatically, but I snap it shut again just as fast. This isn’t the time to interrupt.
“We had only been dating a month or two, but I was so, so in love with her. Or I thought I was.” Rayne’s pace slows ever so slightly. “She did a good job of convincing me we were in love. But what she loved was the idea of rescuing me and making me better. I was a project to her, something fun and interesting to poke at during the weekends when she was bored. I realised it was far more about what she could change in me than what she liked. And what I could give her.”
Another pause. This time the fight to stay silent causes me to bite my own lip.
“She thought that being with me would give her access to Mama and Bubi since they were so well known and respected, particularly for their foster work. She planned to use them to advance her position in the village council and maybe leapfrog out into something bigger. But they knew what she was like long before I did, and her plans fell through. So, to get back at them for destroying her dreams, she turned the council against them by stirring fear and distrust about Bubi’s Ranching duties.” A soft sigh. “I broke it off, but it was too late by then. She hated them and me. And then, of course, I left.”
“But why is she so caught up on you now?” I lose the fight with myself and glare briefly at the window as I walk. “It’s been long enough—surely she’s moved on. Does she still want you?” The words feel slick on my tongue, but I have to ask. I have to know.
She considers. “Before me, I don’t think anybody ever said no to her. I think, at this point, she is more caught up on the idea of me than me myself, since I represent a very real, and rather public, rejection. And certainly, I always remember her getting exactly what she wanted, whenever she wanted it. Linda isn’t spoilt but—”
“Spoilt,” I cut in. “And then along you come to show her that the world doesn’t, in fact, revolve around her. No wonder she can’t let go.” Silly, but abruptly, I feel better.
There isn’t some big, hidden secret between Linda and Rayne. There’s nothing between them at all, just another woman so beside her own self-importance that the very idea of rejection is foreign to them. I’ve met her type before. Those types of people…I know how to handle them.
“Perhaps. But I also think the prestige of being connected to anything from The Big City is very real. It makes one appear important and gives an air of authority and power, whether it’s deserved or not.”
I roll my eyes. “Small-town folk are weird.”
“No weirder than you or me.”
I nod. “Perhaps, though I do question your taste.”
She chuckles. At least that joke still lands well.
We ignore Linda and keep walking. Somehow, the fact that we have our prize makes us significantly less careful and we arrive at the Kidson Bed and Breakfast via the front. After following the little track round to the back, Rayne is first to tap gently on the back door.
Solo yanks it open before Rayne’s knuckles have fully left the wood. His hands and neck are hairy, his fingernails tinged black.
Oh, boy.
“Tell me,” he snaps. “Right now.”
“Can we at least come in?”
“Start. Talking.”
So I stand outside in the cold and the drizzle, and I talk. “Shakka called in a favour.”
That immediately frays Solo’s temper further. “What the fuck does that little shit stain want with you?”
With a sigh, I pull the Blade from my waistband and show it off.
His nose wrinkles. “A big silver knife. Big whoop.”
“It’s a spearhead. An old one. Shakka’s ancestors made it, and when he discovered where it was, he asked me to get it back.”
“And I assume they didn’t want to give it to you?” He gives a mirthless bark of laughter at my confused stare. “You were attacked. The poison? That goblin bastard sent you into danger and didn’t even have the good grace to include the rest of us so we could help you. Worse than that, you didn’t let us help.”
My own heat begins to rise. “It was a favour. My favour. I don’t understand why you’re so upset. Aren’t there things you need to do on your own?”
“Not that need me to lie about them. I hate liars, Karson.”
Oof. Like a punch to the gut. He’s never, ever referred to me so coldly.
“I—”
“You stole the truth from us. You brought us out here on some fake mission, and now an innocent woman is hurt. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”
That’s a little too close to my guilt over all of this. “Coming here to see Fiona was a real mission. Maury arranged for it so I could get help for whatever is on my back. This”—I wave the spearhead at him—“is nothing to do with that. We’re just lucky the locations clashed.”
“And the gargoyle that flew overhead a few hours ago?”
I blink at him. “You saw her?”
“She’s not subtle. Let’s just say that.” Solo sucks in a deep breath, then snorts it out through both nostrils. “Fiona wants to see you. No idea why, but there you go. Duo and I are going out.”
“But—”
“I’m hungry, and I know he is too. This is the countryside—there’s plenty of game we can chase without hurting anybody.”
I reach out, but he jerks away. “Solo, please. Stay. We can talk it through.”
“Maybe later. Right now, if I do, I’m going to say something I don’t mean.” Finally he moves away from the doorway, but outward instead of in. He shoves by me and towards the fence separating off the garden area, shucking clothes as he goes. By the time he reaches the gate, his form begins to twist and writhe, and a soft growl of pain floats back on the night air.
His change, though clearly painful, is smooth and seamless, and he leaps over the fence in his pure wolf form.
As a wolf, his hair dye is a distant memory. Instead Solo is a small, lithe, grey wolf with a white crest along the back.
Already out in the darkness an identical wolf waits for him, though the white colouring is along the chest rather than the back. Duo.
The pair of them pause long enough to look back at me before diving off into the darkness.
“Damn it.”
The last thing I want is two pissed-off wolves roaming the countryside. I’ve already seen one farmer with a gun—what if there are more? Sure, they would likely easily survive a traditional shotgun blast, but do we really want to spook the locals more than we already have?
Rayne rests a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You speak to Fiona. I’ll go. I can keep up, and I might be able to convince them to come back.”
“Be careful.”
She grins in answer, then jogs away.
I look back at the quaint little house and feel a small quiver of fear pulse through me.
What could Fiona possibly want with me after her last disastrous attempt? Well. Only one way to find out, right?
I treat myself to another pat of Norma’s back—more for my comfort than hers—then head inside.
Fiona is waiting in the kitchen. Her back is to me, but I can already see her bandaged hands resting lightly on the table in front of her. Her hair is down and messy and, when I walk round to see her face, I can see the faint rings of fatigue around her lower eyelids.
She gestures to the chair across from her, which I take without speaking.
Norma I lift off my shoulder and place on the floor. The little creature eyes me coolly before helping herself up onto one of the countertops where she sits and watches and waits.
For long seconds we sit in silence.
“Those boys are quite upset,” Fiona says at last.
I wince. “I played it badly.”
A soft hum of assent. “You’re guilty. And angry.”
“You don’t need to be a psychic to tell that.”
“Perhaps not, but you reek of it, child. Are you all right?”
I glare at her. “Me? Me, all right? No, frankly, but thanks for asking. I’ve got you sitting in front of me, bandaged and maimed. I have two of my friends rightly furious with me, and a girlfriend trying to keep it all together on my behalf. I don’t deserve her.”
“You don’t think so?”
A sigh. “What did you need, Fiona? I don’t think I should be here as it is, especially after what I did to you before, but if you have something to say?”
She reaches beneath the table. Her moves are slow and so, so careful, but she holds up an old book. Or I assume it’s a book. The cover is leather or something close and inside are plenty of pieces of paper, though the pages don’t seem to be bound. They are also handwritten.
I shrug.
“My great-aunt was a psychic, rather like me. Or rather, I’m like her. She was very powerful, able to see things in people and objects that no one else ever could. And her grandmother was also like us. Down the line of females in my family, regularly skipping generations, would be those of us who could see.”
It’s a nice story, but I really can’t see how it helps me. But I know she’s trying, so I bite my tongue over the urge to complain. Instead, I wait.
“Many of them kept diaries, or at least notes of things they saw. And each time a member of the family was found to have the ability, we would pass this to them.” She waves the book.
Still I wait.
She sighs. “After I…touched you, I knew there was no way I’d be able to identify your taint on my own. There’s something there, I know that for sure, but I don’t know what it is. I wondered if maybe my relatives did.” Slowly, still carefully, she opens the leather cover.
The pages inside are a mix of different types of paper, plain cards, and even parchment. Some of them are so old that the edges are yellow and crumbling. Each sheet is covered in tiny, precise handwriting, all in different styles and weights. The words of dozens upon dozens of women are in these pages. Along with the papers are other little trinkets, like dried leaves, sprigs of herbs wrapped in string, the occasional small bone or twig.
Fiona spreads it all out on the table in front of her, making little groupings of the papers and oddments.
Rather like my first sight of her real workspace down below, now I get the true sense of who this woman is and how she works. She is the real deal, no matter what facade she puts on for the outside world.
Eventually she brings a single sheet of parchment to the top and smooths it out in front of her. The words are faded and scrawling, the language something I barely recognise as English, though it is much easier to read the right way up.
O’er time immortal liveth t creature
’Pon hapless souls t sups to gréatan
Fear and rage maketh the meat
I shrug. “I’ve no idea what that means.”
A steady stare from Fiona. Wordlessly, she points further down the page.
Mark’d corpse shall embody t
Thus cometh that most pure an fell evel
Minions bruise the path
Bold an fast in that most gold’n eyed hue
Like to sunflowers, yet nay so faire
“Mast’r” crieth they and lo, t comes
