Shadow Kin (4 page)
Authors: M.J. Scott
When he reappeared, he was holding a battered straw hat—wide brimmed and high peaked—that looked as though it had been soundly trampled, then punched roughly back into shape. He held it out proudly. “Perfect.”
He held it over my head, and the light cut off for a moment. Not enough to let me shadow—I couldn’t do that as long as any sunlight touched my body—but enough to ease the heat in my face. Then he pulled the hat away.
“What?”
“It won’t fit with your hair like that.” He gestured at the twisted knot of braids at the back of my head.
I wriggled my fingers, which was about as much movement as I had in my hands with my arms tied. “I can hardly take it down.”
“I’ll do it.”
Before I could protest, he started sliding pins free and unwinding my braids with ease. Each brush of his fingers against my skull made me want to simultaneously purr and run away.
No man had ever run his hands over my hair before. I rarely wore it down in public and never for the hunt. And no man came to visit me in private.
This man wouldn’t be either.
I bit the inside of my lip, welcoming the pain to remind me of what was real and what was not as his hands moved.
At last he had my hair arranged to his satisfaction and slid the hat gently into place. It smelled of him. Warm spice scented the air around me, soaking into my skin with each breath I took.
Dawn felt a long, long time away.
In the end I fell silent again in self-defense, trying to draw my shields around me even as he tried to coax me into conversation. It felt oh so tempting to soften and bend and let him draw me out.
I couldn’t afford soft. I couldn’t afford to want something. Wanting can be used as a weapon against you.
Simon eventually stopped talking and instead sat silently, watching me. That was almost harder to take. But I couldn’t quite make myself look away from those blue eyes.
The clock by his bed seemed to tick very loudly in the silence that bloomed between us.
“Dawn soon,” he said after who knows how long.
I looked toward the window. Sure enough, the sky was lightening: not true dawn, not yet. Like the Blood, I’m sensitive to the rhythm of day and night. In daylight, my powers work if I am underground, but not without a greater effort. Dawn is the time to retreat to safety. To curl myself away in my room and sleep while the Blood slumber and the Trusted stand watch.
I could feel the dawn coming. And, as always, wanted to hold it off. Though this time I wasn’t sure if it was the loss of my powers I dreaded or the fact that I would most likely never see Simon again.
Gradually the sky faded from indigo to purple, then grew pink and gold like a rose. Simon rose from the bed, pistol in hand. I watched as he pulled my dagger free from the wall.
“You don’t need that or the pistol. The sun’s up—you’re stronger than me.”
“So if I untie you, are you going to try to take this?” He held the dagger in his left hand, weighing it.
I shook my head. “No.”
“I want to trust you, Shadow.”
“Trusting me isn’t a good idea.” I didn’t like the way his blue eyes darkened at my words. Didn’t want to think I’d hurt him in any way. “But you’re safe from me today.”
“You’ll come for me again?”
“I go where I’m sent.”
He considered me. “Do you think Lucius will send you again?”
I shrugged, not wanting to think about what Lucius might do to either of us. “Maybe not. But trusting in Lucius’ goodwill isn’t terribly wise.”
“Yet if I set you free, you’ll go back to him,” he said. A bitter edge made his words sting like acid.
“I have to.”
He shook his head. “There are other choices.”
“You don’t understand.” And if I had my way, he wasn’t ever going to.
He tucked the gun into the waist of his trousers, but he still held the dagger. “I’m not giving this back to you. Not now.”
My fingers curled. My dagger was part of me. It rode my hip whenever I was awake. Beautiful, like all Fae work. Beautiful and deadly. A reminder to the Night World of exactly what I was. “It’s mine.”
“I’ll send it to you. I assume ‘care of Lucius’ would be the correct way to address such a package?”
“Yes,” I said, grateful he hadn’t pushed for any further details.
“Fine.” He crossed to a dresser, tucked the dagger into a drawer, then locked it. The key went into the pocket of his trousers. Clever of him. I would hardly be attempting to retrieve it from there.
His face was serious when he returned.
“Have you decided?” I asked, trying to ignore the wary thread of fear rising in my stomach.
“Decided what?”
“What you’re going to do with me?” I held my breath, knowing if he so chose, he could make a decision that would end my life. I hoped the side of him that healed would make such a decision hard on him. I knew what I’d do in his place.
Eliminate the threat.
But this man was very different from me. Very different from anyone else I’d ever met.
“If I turn you in, you’ll try to escape. If you’re successful, people will get hurt. If you fail, they might kill you.”
I nodded, my mouth too dry to dispute any of this. It was all true anyway.
His mouth twisted. Then he braced his shoulders as if he’d made a decision that didn’t entirely rest easy. He knelt and started to untie me.
I didn’t try to fight or flee once I was free. The sun was level with the window and added its paler light to the blaze of Simon’s lamps.
“I’ll take you downstairs. Send for an autocab.”
“ ’ Cabs don’t like to go where I live.” Hackneys even less so. The Beast Kind scents spook the horses.
“I know the driver. He’ll go where I tell him.”
In daylight his house was an oasis of light and peace. Windows and skylights filled the rooms with sunshine, each golden patch of light on the dark floorboards a reminder of my failure and the man who walked behind me.
We came to the front door. I reached for the handle.
His hand caught mine. “Don’t go back there.”
“I have to. Lucius will come looking for me.” I looked at our hands, at his fingers curled around mine, and thought of the world I was returning to. No warmth or pools of sunlight there. No one who saw good where there was no good to be seen. No strong hand holding mine.
Only the familiar ruthless world I knew. But I had to go. Lucius would move heaven and earth to find me if I vanished. I doubted Simon would survive the search, Templar brother or no. “Don’t try to save me, Simon. It’s not worth it.”
His smile went crooked again. “Saving people is what I do.”
“I’m not hurt. I don’t need a healer.”
The smile vanished. “Are you certain about that?”
I tugged my hand free, wanting to ask what he meant. A dangerous impulse. I needed to go. “You should leave being a white knight to your brother.”
“He taught me everything I know.”
“Then you should have paid more attention. I’m sure he taught you not to tangle with the Blood over foolishness. Let me go.”
“You think this is foolishness?” His finger brushed my cheek, and the sting of the sunburn faded under his touch. Another warmth altogether flared in its place.
I stepped back. “I know it is. This is the real world. White knights belong in stories.” I was used to lies and deception, but my tongue stumbled over that one. To cover my confusion I pulled the hat from my head and held it out as the clatter and hiss of metal and steam in the distance heralded the arrival of the ’cab.
His hand fell to his side as if by refusing the hat, he could keep me here. “How about golden ones?”
I tossed the hat, relying on Templar-trained reflexes to make him catch it. “I don’t need saving,” I repeated, and stepped out into the daylight and away from him.
Chapter Two
“Stop here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.” I looked out the window of the autocab as Higgins pulled over to the side of the road. Midafternoon and Saint Pierre seemed quiet, but I wasn’t taking any chances after last night, after my unexpected visitor with the deadly intentions. Hence the convoluted ’cab ride through the human boroughs before we’d reached our destination.
I leaned forward and paid. “Are you off now?”
Higgins nodded. “Another half an hour and I’m done.” He took my money and didn’t offer change. I didn’t expect any. I’d already called in a favor this morning when I’d had him take Shadow back to the Night World. He’d told me he’d dropped her off at Lucius’ Sorrow’s Hill mansion. That information alone was worth the expensive fare.
“Heading back to the guild?”
“Aye. Gotta drop this beauty off before I head home.” He patted the steering gear of the ’cab fondly. The Guild of Mechanisers produced the autocabs in limited quantities, and the drivers shared them to afford the guild’s license fees.
Personally I preferred horses, but the ’cabs, noisy and smelly as they were, were faster and more secure than hackneys and carriages. If the guild ever solved the problem of how to make certain key parts of the engine with something other than prized steel, or managed to win a greater share of the iron ration, they’d probably take over the City.
Or maybe not. The Fae refused to use them, after all.
The ’cab shuddered to a start again as I got my bearings then set off through the streets. Saint Pierre was a merchant borough, full of shops and warehouses and the largest market in the human boroughs. All of which brought many, many people to its streets. Easy to be anonymous here and it was far from any of my usual haunts.
The other thing Saint Pierre was famous—or infamous—for was the number of taverns tucked amongst its streets. Full of cheap beer and cheaper food to fuel the shoppers and workers.
I checked over my shoulder a few times as I walked, but no one was following me. Which made me feel almost cheerful as I ducked down one of the twisted lanes and found the door to the Drunken Crow.
Another handful of coins secured me use of the private room upstairs and I headed up to wait for my companion to join me. It didn’t take long—I’d barely opened the bottle of whiskey I’d acquired downstairs before the door opened with a bang and my brother, Guy, stalked in.
“What’s so important?” he growled as he crossed the room.
“Maybe I wanted to buy my brother a drink?” I held up the bottle of whiskey.
“You don’t usually wake me up to buy me drinks.” He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair and yawned.
Damn. I’d forgotten he was on night patrol at the moment. I pushed a chair away from the table. “Sorry. Sit.”
Guy sat, looking half asleep and cranky about it. He scrubbed a hand over the pale stubble at his chin. “Well?”
I poured him a drink and told him what had happened. When I reached the end of my tale, his glass was still untouched.
“Drink the whiskey,” I said to Guy, watching him grind his teeth. There’s no good way to tell a brother someone tried to kill you. Particularly if the brother is also a Templar knight. Templars tend to overreact.
Though so far, this particular Templar was holding himself in check. Just.
“Why,” he asked slowly, “am I only hearing about this now?”
I’d been expecting that question. Truth was, I wasn’t entirely sure. I’d needed time to think and I’d wanted to give her—Shadow—a chance to get back to the Night World. Even though the thought of her doing just that made me equal parts angry and sickened. “It was only eight hours ago. Drink. You’ll feel better.”
To encourage him, I swigged from my own whiskey. Mistake. It tasted like a rat had drowned in the cask. It probably had. The Drunken Crow wasn’t the sort of tavern that worried overmuch about cleanliness. People came here to drink and ignore the world outside. Nobody would ask questions about anyone else who chose to drink here. My stomach burned as the whiskey settled.
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