Blade Song (3 page)

“Oh, you’ve been very amusing, Colbana.” He leaned forward and light glinted off his eyes in the most unusual way—cat’s eyes… Shit, he better not be getting ready to shift on me. I was so screwed if he did.

But even as I thought it, I realized that wasn’t it. There was just something…eerie about his eyes. Hypnotic. Scary. “Want to hear how I bet?”

“Sure. Tell me, which side were you on?”

He laughed. “The side that loses, usually. After all, you’re still alive…” Then his laugh faded away into a smile. “Nobody’s bitten you and made you change your skin, either. And you’re still here.”

“Oh, I’ve been bitten.” I smiled. “I’m immune.”

Black brows rose a fraction. “That’s not likely.”

I shrugged. Likely didn’t mean
impossible
. The were virus was pretty damn invasive. Either it killed you or it changed you—and it was far more likely to
kill
you. The virus would kill seventy to seventy-five percent of the people it infected. Twenty to twenty-five percent became were. The numbers fluctuated, but they guessed only five percent of humans were truly immune.

But I wasn’t human.

“Trust me. I’ve been bit. More than once. Doesn’t take.”

“Bite’s not the only thing that will do it.” The smile on his face went sly and damn if I didn’t feel my heart kick up a little.

“Please. I’ve read up on shapeshifter biology. I know all about how it works. I’m less likely to catch it from the bite, more likely to catch it from sex.” Swinging my boots off the desk, I shrugged. For a few very short months, I’d had a werewolf boyfriend. It had been a fluke—a guy I’d worked with and the guy he’d hired me to help track down had bitten me. Those wolves, all nice and courteous. The guy had been convinced I’d shift. I hadn’t. We’d had a few weeks of fun once I convinced him of that fact. “That doesn’t work, either.”

“Huh.” His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “I don’t smell that much magic on you.”

“Yeah, well.” I figured he’d assume that. Witches were immune to the were virus. The magic in their blood nullified it. I figured there was enough of my own magic to do the same. Who knows? Wasn’t like I could call home to ask and it didn’t matter anyway. “What can you do?”

“I guess that explains why you don’t change your skin,” he mused. He reached down and when I saw the flash of silver in his hand, I moved.

The only sign of emotion on his face was the faint flicker of his eyelashes. Then he dropped his gaze to the sword in my hand. “You really are as fast as I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, I bet you say that to all the ladies.” I rose and lifted the blade. The swirls and runes on it danced in the dim light. There was enough silver in the blade, enough magic in her to hurt him. He knew it…and he knew I was fully aware of that as well.

But he didn’t look worried. Of course,
hurt
was a far cry from
kill
. I was pretty sure I couldn’t kill him. I was equally sure he knew that. I was equally sure he could kill me, and he was probably aware of that same fact.
Damn it
.

“Settle down, princess.” He leaned back in the chair and used the knife he’d pulled to start cutting his fingernails. In my office.

Ewww
. And no, thanks. I had a cat shifter in my office, holding a knife. I wasn’t going to settle down. I didn’t lower the blade either. “Do us both a favor, if you would, and tell me why you’re gracing me with your presence, cat.”
Please…so I can tell you no and you can be on your way
.

“Cat, huh?” He grinned at me, a toothy smile that would look all too at home on a tiger. A lion. A cougar. Any of those. All of those. One of the big predator cats, damn it. Why couldn’t he be something little? Like a bobcat. A lynx, maybe? Or an ocelot. Yeah. I’d think about him as an ocelot. A little dwarf leopard. Cute, fuzzy. Not at all dangerous.

I stared at him and watched as his eyes flashed again.

No. He wasn’t cute or fuzzy and he sure as hell was dangerous. He tucked his blade away and reached for the file folder he’d brought in with him. So innocuous.

The cat shifter sits in my office, clips his nails with an oversized bowie knife and then proceeds to do business. My life is too damn strange. I should have decided to do the tax crap today. Then I wouldn’t be stuck here with him.

“My Lady sends her regards and formally requests your assistance, Miz Colbana.”

Oh, shit
. There was only one person he’d refer to as
My Lady
. And she was as much trouble as the current thorn in my side. Jude was deadly, but at least he was a predictable pain in the ass. The leader of the cats was
not
.

This was bad. This was so very bad. Worse, the man sitting across from me had gone all formal-like, making this sound like an official request. Technically, I could refuse him, but when they got formal and I said no, it was a pain in my ass, because they talked amongst themselves and fewer were likely to look me up later down the road. I already
had
too little business coming my way as it was.

Oh, well. I’d just move. I’d already been thinking about Boise, right?

“I’m afraid my schedule is full.” Sliding my blade home, I reached for the phone. “I’ve got someplace to be in twenty. You’ll have to see yourself out, cat.”

“We’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars. Regardless of the outcome.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be tied up for the rest of the month.” Giving him a vague smile, I grabbed a pen and started jotting notes down like mad—whatever came to mind.
Busy, busy, busy, see
? I don’t have time to work for
My Lady
.

I wasn’t working for the damn Alphas. And I wasn’t—

He dropped something on my desk.

In that moment, I really hated him.

“We all have weaknesses,” he murmured. “Me, I like a stacked redhead, cold beer, and pizza. I hear you have a soft spot for kids…can’t stand to see them hurt.”

“Beer is kind of pointless, seeing as how most of you burn through it before you can get drunk,” I muttered, trying to pretend the picture in front of me wasn’t getting to me. But it was. It was getting to me badly. Shit, how old was he?

“Hey. I like the taste.” He reached over and plucked up the picture, lifting it until it was all I could see. “He’s sixteen.”

I glared at him. “No fucking way.” That kid didn’t look like he’d so much as kissed puberty. Skinny as a rail, still soft in the face.

He shrugged. “We tend to mature a little later. He’s…hitting later than most. His name is Doyle. He’s my Lady’s cousin and he’s been missing for a week.”

Not my problem, I told myself. Taking the picture, I turned it face down and then looked back at the man standing across from my desk. “I can’t help you.”

“Two weeks ago, he finally started showing signs of spiking.” He paused, his eyes narrowing on my face.

Weird eyes. Deadly eyes. They were storm cloud gray, swirling and darkening into black until that was all I saw. “You know what spiking is, little girl?”

“It’s when an adolescent shifter tries to change for the first time.” They weren’t always successful. There were two ways to become a shapeshifter. You got infected. Infection happened with a bite or through unprotected sex. Or you were born with it and actually, being born with it was still being infected with it.

I’ve heard rumors of a more magically-based shapeshifter race, but the only kind I’ve ever dealt with are the biologicals…those who get it through the virus, either by sex, bite or birth.

When a shifter kid spiked, things could get dicey fast. Kids tended to panic and without guidance, there was a good chance they’d lose control during the change.

Panic, excessive strength, animal instincts—not a good mix. Sometimes…that first change killed them. Sometimes the panic and the pain were enough to drive a kid crazy and they’d forget who they were, falling prey to the animal that lived inside their skin. When the beast got control, it didn’t give up easily and if that spark of humanity didn’t appear, the shifter was executed.

They had a fucked-up lot in life, that was for certain.

But if they made it through those first few rough changes, they generally did okay.

And this poor kid was out there…alone?

“Why did he run?”

The cat shifter shrugged. “We don’t know, exactly. Doyle is one of those kids who tend to stand on the outside. Very much a loner.”

“You’re lying about something.”

A faint smile curled his lips. He flexed a hand. I had the odd impression of a cat flexing its claws. “You know, if you were one of us, I could rip your throat out over that.”

I readied myself. He was here because his alpha had sent him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt me a little in the process. And if he decided that was what he was going to do, I’d damn well do my best to bleed him.

He continued to watch me and abruptly he sat up in his seat, leaning forward and staring at me with a wide grin. “It’s almost kind of cute. Like a kitten attacking a full-grown tiger or something. Too silly and little to realize how badly it could get hurt.”

“I’m not a kitten.” Wrapping my hand around the grip of my sword, I flexed my muscles. Relaxed. Flexed. Relaxed. “And if you don’t want to hear the truth of what I have to say, maybe you’d be better off telling your boss to find another investigator. I don’t live in your world, cat. And the beauty of that? Means I don’t have to abide by the stupid, insane medieval crap shit that you all live and breathe.” I smiled serenely.

To my surprise, he chuckled. “It seems she had a good read on you. You will get in trouble working this alone.” He reached into his jacket and five seconds later, I found myself staring at neat little stacks of green.

Money.

Lots and lots of cold, hard cash.

Oh, shiny
…

“Your down payment.” Then he smiled. “And don’t worry…I’ll take care of my own meals and such.”

“Wait a second, I never said I was taking the damn job.” I continued to stare at the money. Damn, it was enough to set me up for a while. And then some. Abruptly, his words got through to me and I shifted my focus back to his face. “What do you mean, you take care of your own meals?”

“I’m part of the package, kitten. Your bodyguard, babysitter and tattle-tale, all rolled into one.” Flashing his teeth at me, he added, “Aren’t you pleased?”

Hell. No
.

Two hours later, my self-appointed bodyguard was guiding me into the decidedly opulent lair of the Lady.

Somehow,
Hell. No
. had turned into
Okay
without a conscious decision from my brain. I didn’t even realize it had happened.

One minute I had been in the process of gathering up the money to throw at his face, and the second…the picture. I had looked back at the picture. The poor kid with stringy blond hair hanging in his thin face, his blue eyes defiant and scared.

Lost.

Sixteen. Out there, alone. Sixteen years old and his body was a ticking time-bomb.

I’d been fifteen when I’d run away from my mother’s family. Fifteen, and although I hadn’t had to worry about my body going nuts, I had spent the next three years convinced one of my aunts, or worse…my grandmother…might come after me. I knew what it was like to be alone and scared.

“Come on, kitten. She’s waiting for you.”

Glaring at the back of his head, I pointed out, “I have a name.” It wasn’t
kitten
. I didn’t like
kitten
.

“Yeah. Kit. Not too different from
kitten
.” He shot me a grin over his shoulder, one that was faintly demonic, I decided. “It’s too late to back out now. You already accepted the money. That’s pretty much akin to signing a contract in our world and you know it. She’ll take exception if you turn chicken now.”

I curled my lip at him.

I’d show him a fucking chicken—he’d squawk like one after I rammed my sword up his ass.

But I wasn’t going to back out. After all, he was right; I’d taken the money. And it was about that, right? I could try to pretend. After all, I like money. I didn’t get lots of it often and when I did, I got through it too easily. I was finally getting better at budgeting, but man, fifty thousand? I could splurge. A little.

Yet even as I tried to pretend, I knew better. I had a soft spot, all right. A weakness. And it was most definitely for cases that involved kids.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that boy’s face.

I was sunk. Completely.

“You ever going to tell me your name?” I asked, trailing along after him, eying his muscled back, those wide shoulders. In the back of my mind, some part of me thought:
Pretty
…

And I immediately wanted to punch myself. He was a damned cat. He still hadn’t confirmed or denied, but I knew a cat when I saw one. And regardless, he was a shifter, he was somehow connected to the crazy cat clan and that meant
hell, no
. Even if he was hotter than hell.

“I guess I should tell you my name, since I’ll be keeping you company for a while…” He smiled as we came to a halt inside a round room—it was draped with swaths of pink silk.

I felt like I’d fallen into a piece of bubble gum.

“And that name is…?”

“Damon.”

“Demon? That’s fitting.” I smirked at him and flopped onto a chair. I put my blade on the couch next to me and drew my knee to my chest, ignoring the pointed look he gave the sword.

“You don’t need that,” he said flatly.

“I do.” I touched it and smiled as the runes danced at my touch. My mother’s sword. It wasn’t as strong in my hands as it had been in hers—after all, I was half-human, but it was still powerful. And mine. I felt better just for touching it.

My mother’s sword. And she knew me.

“She isn’t going to like some trained killer sitting in her private quarters with a silver sword,” he said. His brows dropped low of those odd eyes of his and he came off the couch, prowling closer. “How did you get it in here, anyway? I saw you lock it up.”

I smiled. “We trained killers have our tricks.”