Night Blade (18 page)

This was Damon’s most private area.

He’d allow
nobody
in here and by law, it would take a hell of a lot for it get searched. He had the sort of immunity to things that a human foreign dignitary would have when it came to having to his private quarters, his belongings searched. He’d have to literally be caught red-handed, in the middle of something very bad, like killing a human, before the Assembly lawyers would even think of trying to acquire a warrant.

Now they might try to take him out. But search his private library?

Different story.

It made sense that he’d feel fine leaving things out in here, things that he would never let anybody see.

Anybody but me.

I swallowed as I stared at the list of names.

Seven names.

Five of them, I knew, were dead.

The other two…one was vaguely familiar. Cedric Marlowe. Old witch. I had an image in my head of a guy who wore black robes, spoke with one of those proper, upper-crust accents and hailed from an old, old family. Like touched-down–with-the-
Mayflower
old.

He had been one of the ones who’d resisted coming out to humans, even though there hadn’t been a choice. It had been unavoidable after humans had caught a couple of werewolves going at it on video. There had been a few here and there before that, but this one…an outright sting, and it was decided by the old Assembly that the NHs could either step forward…or be hunted.

I wasn’t surprised by how they’d handled it. It was better to control your own destiny than have it decided for you.

Marlowe had been of the mind that if enough witches banded together, then they could do undo what had happened. It was entirely possible, but magic came with a price. It had been voted down by the world order of witches and many of the other NHs had spoken against it as well.

Marlowe had been an ass about it ever since.

He’d probably been an ass all along, but that wasn’t the point.

But why was he on this list?

I didn’t know.

The last name, I didn’t recognize.

Delores Richards.

Sounded common and easy. Like a kindergarten teacher or a soccer mom…

But Damon wouldn’t go after somebody like that.

My throat was tight, aching as I turned away from the list. Damon was a killer and this was something I had no problems with.
I
was a killer. But I only killed a certain target and I knew how to recognize my own kind. Damon was my own kind. He was stronger than I was, quicker…but he was like me. Probably more efficient and a hell of a lot more ruthless, but I understood him.

The people on this list were on it for a reason.

I needed, so badly, to understand what that was.

Vaguely, I heard his voice and I made myself walk away from the desk, from that damnable list, too aware of the voices out there, what was going on. As much as I’d like to hide in here, as much as I might like to
run
, to get away from the knowledge I had here, I couldn’t.

I had to get to the bottom of this.

When I’d stepped out of the shower, I’d almost felt normal, just a little weaker and tired than I’d liked. But now, every muscle in my body hurt. And my heart felt like a gaping, aching wound.

I had to get it together. If I went out there like this, Damon would see it in a heartbeat and I’d have deal with it on top of this. And
this
needed to come first. Had to fix this.

Taking a deep, slow breath, I closed my eyes.
I am aneira—

By the time I made it to the door that opened into the main chamber, I could almost think. I could breathe. And even though I felt like I was made of spun glass and threads of nothing, it was something that I’d never let show.

The knob of the door turned easily and I was so distracted that I didn’t notice how quiet it had gotten out there. Not until half a dozen pair of eyes swung my way.

Damon was the only one not looking at me.

Everybody else was. Chang was there and he was smiling at me.

The rest of them were staring at me with what ranged from disgruntlement and confusion to outright hostility—hello, Sam…suddenly I knew why her voice had sounded so familiar. Memories of her over the past night leaped into mind. I’d almost forgotten about her. I rather wished I had.

Instead of looking at any of them, I focused on Damon. He was so much easier to look at, so much easier to focus on.

“I’m missing a shirt,” I said, a little surprised when that came out. “I swiped one of yours.”

Damon slanted a smile my way, his gaze lingering very briefly on my neck before skimming over the rest of me. Some of the uneasiness faded, leaving behind heat in its wake, although that wasn’t much better, considering we had an audience. He quirked a brow at me and said, “You were bleeding. You had a compress on you, but there was a shirt covering it—one of yours, I think. I saw
Grateful Dead
on it.”

I scowled. My
Grateful Dead
shirt? Seriously?

Sighing, I dumped my bag on the floor and glanced around the room. There was an old saying I’d heard humans use:
fifth wheel.
That’s about how I felt. Damon was sitting on the couch, sprawled in front of the fire with his legs stretched out. Chang had the chair to his right and everybody else was standing in front of him, heads bowed.

No. Not everybody. As I stood there, the giant tiger from the previous night came pacing my way. He butted his massive head against my hip and I frowned as I looked down at him. “Ah…hey, Doyle.” Unsure what else to say or do, I reached down and rubbed at his head. A sound oddly like a purr escaped him before he turned back and padded over to the sitting area.

“Sir, perhaps your…
friend
would like to move to the guest quarters adjoining your room,” Sam said. Although she didn’t spit it out through gritted teeth, she might as well have.

I snorted as I crossed the floor over to drop down on the couch beside Damon. Nerves had been jangling inside me, but they were gone now. Maybe I should send her a
thank-you
gift. “Hear that, pal?” Kicking my legs up on the couch, I stared at Sam even though I was talking to Damon. “I’m your
friend
. Do we get play-dates now?”

“Didn’t we just have one of those?” He closed a hand around my ankle.

Doyle sneezed and stretched his massive body out in front of us. Absently, I was aware of Chang moving to stand behind us. He touched my arm and I glanced up at him, frowning. He wasn’t looking at me, though.

He was staring at the people in front of us.

And he wasn’t smiling.

“Sir,” Sam tried again. “We do have Clan business to discuss. She is not Clan.”

Well, there was truth in that—

“She is.” Damon smiled, that cagey grin of his lighting his face. “The problem is, none of you saw it.”

Then he nudged the tiger down at his feet. “Except for this big fur rug. Doyle, why in the hell haven’t you changed back?”

Doyle made an odd grunting sound, deep in his throat and focused his gaze on Sam.

“I’ve been telling him to change back all night,” Sam said sourly. “I think he’s still having control issues.”

“Oh, like hell.” Damon nudged the tiger again. “Change back, Doyle.”

The change was slow, almost comically slow. If I didn’t know a hell of a lot about shifters, I almost would have thought it was a struggle. But I knew better. Changing back in that way took a hell of a lot more control than doing it any other way. Damn.

I was impressed.

Doyle moved as he shifted and by the time he was done, he was sitting on his butt with his back against the couch where Damon and I were sitting. Light sweat gleamed on his skin but he wasn’t breathing heavy and I could see the smile on his profile, too.

He was grinning at Sam, all but laughing in her face.

What are you up to, kid?

“That’s better.” Damon shifted on the couch and rubbed the ball of his thumb down my foot.

I shoot him a look.
Better? The kid’s sitting naked just a few feet away and he’s laughing at that nasty bitch—

“If he wasn’t having issues with control, then he’s having issues responding to a direct order,” Sam said.

“Actually, I believe I’ve addressed this. I’ve requested his reassignment,” Chang said from behind us. “I would think that you just hadn’t bothered checking your mail. The messages were sent down the line yesterday. Doyle is now officially under my command.”

“Ease up, Chang,” Damon said easily. “I’m sure Sam is still just a little tired. She has to pull extra duty when I’m not here and all. Maybe it’s too much for her. Is that it? You tired, Sam?”

“I’m not—”

Damon arched a brow. “You’re not tired, huh?” He shrugged. “Okay. I was trying to throw you a rope, but you don’t want it.”

He nudged my foot aside and I drew it away, shifted on the couch so I could study the rest of them. And although they were being pretty subtle about it, they were studying me, too.

I felt like I’d been dipped in neon paint or something—or rather, my neck. Two of them noticed almost right away.

I knew them. One was Thomas Buxton. The other was Kingston Reardon. Together with Chang, they made up Damon’s advisory committee. I knew them more than anybody else, except for the guys that made up his bodyguard detail when he bothered to
let
them.

Reardon and Buxton were typically polite to me, but they reminded me of the wolves. They’d treat you with courtesy as they relieved you of the burden of your head.

I was a little freaked out when their gazes immediately dropped like they’d development an obsessive interest in the toes of their shoes or the pattern of the rug.

It was plush and thick and nicely padded, but it had no pattern, so that didn’t make sense.

I brushed my hand across my neck. Were they going to try and relieve me of the burden of my head now? Nah. That didn’t make sense. One, my hand didn’t itch—if I was in danger, my hand would be itching, the magic that connected me to my weapons firing up. Two, I wasn’t going to be in danger
here
…even if Damon wasn’t sitting a few feet away, I was in his rooms. Still, they were acting
weird
.

“Sir, I’m not sure what you mean by the woman being part of the Clan.” That came from the diminutive thing standing on the far side of the room. She was the direct opposite of Sam. Where Sam was all lush elegance and power, this woman was sleek and lean. She made me think of a bobcat.

I glanced over at Sam and studied the pacing energy around her. I hadn’t taken notice of it earlier, but now that I was looking, I could see it. Panther. Black death in the night. She’d crouch in the trees and drop down on her prey.

Reardon touched the smaller woman’s shoulder. The look he gave her was telling. She glanced at me and her eyes were puzzled. Blood rushed to my face as her gaze locked on my neck.

“Oh.” Her eyes rounded. “Sir, I—”

She said nothing else, just looked away.

One by one, each of them noticed.

Except Sam.

She was oblivious as she took a step toward Damon, head cocked. “Sir, you’ve been away or busy for quite a while. I realize your
friend
would like some of your time, but the Clan needs you and this is Clan business. If I may just show her to the guest chambers, then we could—”

“Sam.”

Buxton stepped forward, an apologetic look on his face as he glanced my way.

Hell, what did they think
I
was going to do?

She shot the guy an irritated look and he gave her a squinty-eyed one.

My phone rang. I recognized the ring from clear across the room. The Imperial March…not a good sign. I only programmed that ring for certain people and while it was
possible
Linc from the local human police department was calling me, I wasn’t going to bet on it.

It rang again before abruptly cutting off as we all continued to sit there.

As Sam took another step away from Buxton, and another step
toward
Damon, I decided I’d had enough. I looked over at him. He flicked a glance at me and shrugged.

I took that to mean…
I don’t care
.

Good. I didn’t have time for this. My discovery from earlier was weighing on me like a stone and I had to get to work, I had to call Justin, because I
knew
who’d called me, and I couldn’t do
any
of that while we were having a pissing contest.

Since I
didn’t
have time, I went for the direct approach—I decided to piss her off.

“Damn, Damon. Either she’s deliberately obtuse or she just wants in your pants so bad, she can’t see what’s right in front of her face.”

Damon looked over at me and there was a look on his face, brows arched, eyes opened just a little too wide. He almost looked a little surprised there.
Oh, come on now
. I stared at him for a second.
You had to know
.

Then I looked back at Sam and met her furious gaze.

A growl trickled out of her throat, but she continued to stand there, hands flexing and curling at her sides like she was imagining my throat in her grasp. Not good enough.

I slid Damon another look. “Think she’s nearsighted?”

Another growl escaped Sam, a little louder this time. I shifted on the seat, readied my body, measuring the distance between us. Yes, it was enough. Not by much, but it was enough. Heat gathered in my palm, but I didn’t focus on the song of the sword just then. That wasn’t what I needed. I needed something else…tribal beats. Deep, rhythmic, pulsing in beat with my heart.

“What did you just say, bitch?”

“Sam, be
quiet
.” That came from the only other woman in there—the little bobcat. If she’d been in cat form, all her fur would standing on end.

“Ella, shut up,” Sam snarled, still not taking her eyes off me.

I smiled at her and blew her a kiss.

That did it.

She lunged for me.

It was the smart-ass things that had done Damon in, too. Muscles pulled and screamed at me as I moved, springing into a crouch onto the couch and then jumping backward right before she would have grabbed me.