Banewolf (Dark Siren Book 2) (20 page)

“Okay, Kali.” York was in full strut, like a platoon sergeant pacing before his troops. “Rion pounded on you pretty hard—as hard as a girl can—without much result. Your old skills aren’t going to be easily resurrected.” His sharp eyes didn’t miss the way her shoulders slumped. “Perk up, sweetheart. You get to punch someone today. Probably in the face.”

Kali smiled.

“Let’s switch gears. I’m going to teach you a pretty basic style of fighting. This is your new mantra: devastate and escape. Say it.”

“Devastate and escape.”

“Good.” He pointed to the kin. “Orrin, come and show Kali a passive stance. Good. Now move into a fighting stance.” 

Kali squared her hips and shoulders, spreading her feet a bi
t wider as Orrin demonstrated. When she mimicked his easy flow into a more defensive position, York shook his head. “He’s left dominant. You’re not. Step back with your right foot.” Satisfied with the switch, he nodded. “From here, most people are going to take you seriously. You’ve kinda got that Amazon thing going on. And you pretty much always look cranky. But we’re not training to deal with most people. Orrin is going to grab you. Try to stop him any way you can.”

York gave the order and suddenly more than two hundred pounds of fight barreled straight toward her.
She backed away, her eyes frantically searching for a weak point. Orrin was almost on top her. Closing her eyes, she swung out with as much power as she could muster. Her knuckles connected with something, but it was only a glancing blow. Then her arms were swiftly but gently pinned behind her back and she could no longer move.

York clucked his teeth. “Terrible. You gave up ground and came out of your defensive stance immediately. Do it again. This time I want you to hit him without moving your feet an inch.”

“He’ll flatten me!”

“For the sake of practice, I promise he won’t.”

“I would not hurt you even if under orders,” Orrin said softly.

“Let’s not admit things like that aloud,” York reprimanded halfheartedly. “Again,” he repeated.

Orrin advanced like lightning. Kali started to shift her feet but stopped. She wasn’t supposed to move.
Okay, all I have to do is hit him.
She struck out, missed completely, and found herself sitting on her butt. Orrin had put her there. That much she knew. But how he’d accomplished it without her feeling a thing was a mystery. “Hey!” she exclaimed, glaring at York indignantly. “If he can take me down so easily, why did you hit so hard the other day?”

He shrugged. “I honestly have no idea how he does that. Orrin is our go-to guy for sparring when you’re injured.”

Taking Orrin’s offered hand, she climbed to her feet and dusted herself off. York immediately took her by the shoulders, steering her to stand in front of Orrin again. But this time, he put himself between them. “Assume the stance.” After she did, he guided her forearms forward with a quick, thrusting motion. Then he did it again. “The next time he attacks, do exactly that. Lead with your thumbs. Take out his eyes.”

Kali recoiled. “I can’t do that.”

“You won’t hurt him.”

“No.” She folded her arms stubbornly.

York rolled his eyes. “Orrin, a little help here.”

“I will not be harmed, Kalista.”

“He just told me to jab you in the eyes. What if I get in a good shot like with York the other day?”

“I will stop your advance before contact. Please trust me.”

Unable to refuse his earnest expression, Kali relented and stepped into a fighting stance. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

#

The dark pickup sped along the interstate, aimed for the city. No one said much during the ride. There were simply too many words between Rhane and River. Stepping through a minefield of family issues was the last thing Rhane wanted to navigate while distracted with thoughts of Gabriel’s ambiguous motives, the even more abstruse Builders, treason amongst the Primes, a new threat from rogues, an uneasy alliance with Ian that would probably turn out to be a huge mistake, and finding the elusive Siren’s Heart. Rhane didn’t mind the silence. He needed it.

Even Rion was unusually
hushed. He sat in the backseat quietly humming tunes from War’s mp3 player. Either War had left the device behind accidentally, or Rion had swiped it before leaving the manor. There was no way War had willingly loaned it to him.

But
Rion’s silence didn’t surprise Rhane. His brother was essentially a foreigner to the young kin. He looked like the royals stories were often told of, but Rion had never met one. And York probably fed him additional information that didn’t paint royals in a favorable light.

Once upon a time, Warekin were a pure race. All
firstborn had white hair, fair skin, and blue eyes. Other offspring carried traits of fair skin and blue eyes. All held the power to summon war skins. They’d used those skins and fighting skills to police the lands, subdue wars, and keep rogue and kindred populations in check. But Warekin had performed their duties too well. The resulting absence of war eventually made them weak—or so the story was told. Pure Warekin bred with humans. Not all of the children who were sired could shapeshift. Some bloodlines lost the ability altogether. But there were some families who remained pure. White hair and blue eyes became staples of those unadulterated bloodlines. But white hair still only marked the firstborn of breeders from pure bloodlines. Locks of any other color indicated a tainted lineage.

Rhane glanced at River. Whytetree was thought
to have the purest of pedigrees, until he was born. He with black hair and green eyes.

York came from a bloodline beneath royals. He had never lived in Golden Mountain. Until he showed the ability to shapeshift, the plains were his home. Those who lived within the villages had varying opinions of the ruling class—Protectors, Benefactors, or Suppressors.
Differing views were affected by many variables. York never spoke directly against the ruling class, not even after leaving their homeland. However, Rhane was pretty sure that in York’s eyes, the royals fell in the “Suppressor” category. He couldn’t blame York for seeing things that way. But Rhane’s father was of pure blood. He knew the other side of them. He’d lived in the mountain, experienced the love and mercy of a royal. And royal blood ran through his veins.

“I don’t think you should go back.”

Jolted from thought, Rhane glanced at Rion through the rearview mirror. “Turn the volume up.”

Rion obeyed without hesitation. Barely making out the lyrics from the earbuds, Rhane shook his head. “Louder.” Even with the volume maxed out, Rhane was unwilling to take any chances. He put all four windows down and finally looked at River. “Keep your voice to a minimum.”

“I don’t think you should go back,” he repeated.

“How do you know I’m going back?”

“The years we spent apart don’t mean I know you any less.”

“Fair enough.” Rhane tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I have to find out what’s going on. I think the Primes can help me.” He intentionally neglected to go into detail
with the reasons behind that theory. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust River. But his younger brother had spent four hundred years on Golden Mountain, with royals, and in the company of their mother without the benefit of Rhane’s offsetting influence. He couldn’t ignore that.

“Then allow me to go. Tell me what answers you seek, and I will find them.”

“This is something I have to do.”

“How can you be sure of their forgiveness?”

“Primes sent you here. Jehsi returned Bellefuron as a sign of their oath.”

“Do not trust them, brother.”

“Are you telling me that I shouldn’t trust Father?”

River fixed his cool stare on Rhane. “I am telling you not to trust them.”

“I don’t see a way to figure this out from here.” He shook his head. “Either way, I have to stop running.”

The wind was doing a serious number on River’s platinum locks. Turning into the bluster, he whipped his hair into a braided knot and then fixed it with a needle sharp
shard of bone from a plate beast’s horn. The elegant motions of his fingers ended in short, final motions, communicating the disapproval he would not give voice to. River didn’t have to agree with Rhane’s decision. He only had to accept it.

Putting the windows up, Rhane whistled to get Rion’s attention. He waited until both earbuds were out. “There might be trouble at the bookshop. A rogue was there during my last visit. Probably the same one who killed King for his position, or she was the one who gave the order.”

“Was she hot?”

Rhane rolled his eyes heavenward. He could have sworn York had stayed behind at the manor. “She turns into a troll with a severe case of sunburn in natural light. What do you think?”

“Not hot.”

“Glad that’s settled. Until we learn whether or not the rogue is there, Rion, I want you to stay within sight of either me or River. Understood?”

“Got it.”

“And if we do find a rogue?” River asked coolly.

“Let’s not kill it right away.”

The
bookshop looked the same as the last time. Only all of the windows were open and shutters were drawn up, flooding the inside with sunlight. Rhane took it as a good sign. The ugly flower arrangement was also missing from the storefront. Another good sign. Lara, the rogue, had to have been the creator of the last bouquet. Maybe she was missing too.

Harry came as soon as the bell dinged on the front door. Seeing Rhane, the old man scurried backward. “Oh no. I don’t want anything more to do with you…things.”

Rhane gestured for River and Rion to stay by the door. He moved toward Harry, but the shopkeeper kept backing away. His plump face grew increasingly alarmed. “Please. You must leave. You’ve caused enough trouble.”

“Harry,” Rhane said
as nonthreatening as possible. “We just want to take a look around your shop. We’ll be gone in under an hour.”

The old man positioned himself behind a dusty workbench. “No,” he said.

Giving the shopkeeper his space, Rhane folded his arms in thought. They needed to look for clues. Harry’s cooperation could be needed later, so tying him up and forcibly taking the shop wasn’t an option. Somehow, Rhane was going to have to convince this man that he and his friends were harmless. “Will you come to the window, Harry?”

Harry’s round features widened with fear. “Creatures like you abhor the light.”

“Let me show you that I’m different. Watch.” He stepped away from the old man and went to the nearest window. Completely bathed in sunlight, he faced Harry again. “I’m not like Lara.”

Leaving the meager cover provided by
the workbench, Harry dared a few steps closer. Rhane watched the shopkeeper’s fear morph into intellectual curiosity. “What are you?”

“I’m just a guy, Harry.”

At that, the old man backed away again. “You are no man. No. Your picture was in the book!”

Damn. Rhane tried again. “Okay. I’m the guy who keeps creatures like Lara from hurting normal people like you.” It was actually the former job description of the Warekin. But an old truth was better than a lie the old man would never accept. And it was certainly better than the current truth—if you don’t help
, a supernatural war will happen that could end with the awakening of a soul eating, world consuming entity.

“King never came back.”

Harry looked pretty worried about the kid. Rhane felt bad and didn’t want to be the one to deliver the news. Technically, it was King’s next of kin who should be the first to learn of the boy’s fate. But Rhane didn’t think the shopkeeper would forgive another lie. So he told the truth. “King is dead.”

“Did you kill him?”

He wanted to say,
Yes. I did. And then I ate him.
Because after everything he’d just explained, it was really a stupid question. “No,” he answered. “Lara did.”

“You should have stopped her.” Harry’s lip quivered. His eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to do that now. But I need your help.”

The old man sat in the nearest chair, breaking down for a few moments of wretched sobbing. “He was my grandson.”

Ouch. “I’m sorry,” Rhane repeated and meant it. He knew too well what it felt like to lose someone.

He waited until Harry was done, hoping very
much that Rion’s curiosity hadn’t gotten the better of him and led the boy nosing around. After several long minutes, Harry looked up. His kind face darkened. “Will you kill her?”

Rhane nodded.

“Then take what you need. The shop is yours.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

Ten minutes later, his brother and Rion were huddled over a tattered strip of paper that threatened to disintegrate if either of them breathed too hard. “What’s this?”

“Something
the boy found,” River answered without lifting his head.

He and Rion were acting like a couple of history
geeks who had just discovered the secret journal of Genghis Kahn. Not wanting to interrupt, Rhane discreetly moved in for a closer look. Whatever was written on the paper was complete gibberish. Letters, symbols, and numbers randomly jumped out at him. Some were written backward and upside down. Or he had suddenly succumbed to a severe case of dyslexia. He recognized at least four languages in the script, but none of them formed words. None of them made sense.

He glanced at Rion and River again. Then he took a second look at Rion. The boy was reading. Rhane couldn’t wait any longer. “What’ve you got?”

“It appears to be some kind of code, a really old one.” He finally met Rhane’s eyes. “If computers had been invented when people were still drawing stick paintings on cave walls, this is what the code would have looked like.”

“Do you know what it says?”

“Not really. But I’m pretty sure I could write a program to read this. It might take a few days.”

Not one to miss details, Rhane prodded Rion a bit further. “You said not really.”

“Well…I’m not sure. The code is pretty complicated.”

“You compared it to stick figures a few seconds ago.”

Rion sighed. Rhane waited patiently. Rion always got like this when asked to dumb techy stuff down enough so that people who didn’t sleep with their tablets could understand. “Asking me to translate this without the proper tools is like expecting an mp3 player to read music from a cassette tape. You remember cassette tapes, don’t you?”

Rhane almost laughed. “What does it say, Rion?”

“Rock, spirit, and mountain are buried in the code. But like I said, I can’t be sure until I write the necessary program.”

“This is just like--” River began, but Rhane had gone before he could finish the sentence.

Harry was kneeling on the floor, sorting through a pile of books when Rhane appeared beside him. In alarm and surprise, the old man started sideways and fell over. Apologizing, Rhane helped him to his feet. He usually didn’t allow humans see him move so fast. And it was generally a bad idea to scare old people like that. But the matter was urgent. “Harry, I need you to come with me for a moment.”

At a normal pace, he led the old man
back to the workbench and pointed to the strip of parchment. “What is this, Harry?”

The shopkeeper looked at it, and then at Rhane, curiously. “I have seen this before, but I do not know what it is. Lara studied it many times.”

Rhane pressed the old man further. “Why did she leave it behind?”

“I don’t know,” he said and Rhane believed him.

Rion offered an explanation. “Maybe she’s coming back.”

Still looking at Rhane, Harry shook his head. “She hasn’t returned since the day you came here.”

Rion grinned. “You must have scared her off.”

Rhane didn’t like that answer. Spreading from the center of his gut, an ill feeling crept through his body. “It’s too easy.”

River spoke matter-of-factly. “The map at the manor needed a key.” He took the strip from Rion and handed it to Rhane.

“And suddenly here it is.”
He stared at the parchment but didn’t offer a hand to receive it. “That makes me not want it very much.”