Shaedes of Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novel (42 page)

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Authors: Amanda Bonilla

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BOOK: Shaedes of Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novel
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Jesus, I wish he’d shut up.
How I’d spent twenty years in his company, I’ll never know.
“You’re still as stupid and ignorant as you ever were. You and Raif. Serving my father like his lapdogs.” He snorted in disgust. “But he’ll trip up sooner or later, and you’ll both regret your allegiance. Fools, both of you.”
At least now I knew where Azriel had gotten his dramatic tendencies; seems it ran in the family. My fingers caressed the dagger’s hilt, protruding from the sheath at my thigh, and my conscience hitched for a brief, intolerable moment.
“You can’t talk your way out of this one, Az.” I wondered what could have made him hate his father so much, what skeletons lurked in his closet. “Besides, I don’t give a shit about Xander’s kingdom. When I finish this, I’m done with him.”
Azriel laughed again; his rope was
seriously
unraveling. “You know, now that I think of it, I should have killed your little pet. He fell hard for you, though I don’t blame him. You are extraordinary. But you—you surpassed my expectations. Delilah knew your love for him was deep, and I doubted it. You were right—I
am
jealous. You certainly didn’t love me as much. How’s your true love doing, by the way? Not much of a wish granter anymore, I hear.”
I never said my moral compass pointed due north. My own skeletons needed a walk-in closet. I’d been paid, plain and simple, and I always followed through on a job. Always.
The dagger slipped from the sheath, quiet as a lover’s whisper. I choked up on the grip, the guard biting bitterly into my skin. Twenty years I’d spent with him. He’d seduced me and I’d thought I loved him. He could have been honest with me. If he’d told me the truth all those years ago and defied Xander, I would have taken his side. I would have followed him anywhere, and we might’ve been happy. Looking into the cold light of his eyes, though, I saw the truth. He wanted me dead. Me and every last person who’d wronged him. He could never be stopped or restrained or imprisoned. Raif was right. He was simply too dangerous, and I held to my standards: Never kill the innocent. I sucked in a breath, looked deep into the fathomless depths of his black eyes, and reached behind him, my face brushing his as I cut the Lyhtan hair with my dagger, freeing his hands.
“I’d rather die by your hand than live by anyone else’s,” he said, almost too low to hear. He reached for his boot, for the knife I’d seen hidden there.
Mercifully quick, I stabbed at his jugular, severed the carotid artery.
Bright crimson gushed from the wound, and the air tinged with copper. Eyes large and disbelieving, Azriel stared. He twitched, bent forward, and lurched upright. “That’s . . . my girl,” he said in a gurgling breath. The spark drained from his eyes, and he slumped to the floor.
I stumbled and found my back against the far wall. Sliding to the floor, I sat with my knees drawn up and the bloody dagger dangling from my hand. I’d always thought he was dead. And now he was. Once and for all, Azriel was gone. And my hand had dealt the blow.
Anya rounded the corner at a full sprint. She wore a canary-yellow jumpsuit in her signature leather. I wondered how much I’d have to pay her to get her into a nice pair of cotton Dockers. “What happened?” she asked, curiosity watering down her usual condescension. “I’ve never seen Raif so unsettled.”
“It didn’t go well,” I said, using the wall as leverage to push myself from the floor.
“You think?” She motioned to the door.
Three Shaedes entered, looking more afraid of me than the mangled and bloodied body lying on the floor. They skirted me by way of the opposite wall, and I did them a favor by getting the hell out of there.
Not confined to time of day, I became one with the very air and appeared at Raif’s back as he hurried toward the second flight of stairs. I drifted into my corporeal form and laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Raif, there wasn’t any other way for this to end. You know that, right?”
“Do I?” he said, taking my hand and removing it from his shoulder. “I’m not so sure. Do you think he was telling the truth in there?” He jerked his head toward the stairs. “I always knew that Azriel had designs on Xander’s throne. But more than that? ‘This is only the beginning.’ That’s what he said. I was stupid to hope that merely killing the fool would put an end to this. And, frankly, I don’t need the headache.”
“Azriel was a liar. We both know that. There’s always hope, Raif,” I said.
“Oh, really?” His jaded tone screamed hardened, battle-weary warrior. And, perhaps,
grieving
uncle? “Do you have hope now? You’ve been wandering around this house for weeks like some sort of damned ghost, waiting for Tyler to wake up. Is that hope? Knowing there’s not a single thing you can do for him, but staying here anyway—is that hope? Living for a dead man—is that hope? Or is it just pathetic?”
Ouch, Raif.
He’d stung me with his words, but deep down I knew I wasn’t pathetic. I did have hope. I hoped that Azriel’s plans died with him. I hoped we’d have some peace and quiet for a while. And I had to hope Tyler would be okay. And as Raif’s words came back to me, my hope transformed into a plan.
“I’ll show you what hope can do.” I disappeared, and like the ghost they all thought I was, drifted up the staircase to Tyler’s room.
I burst through the door and knelt beside him, put my mouth to his ear. “Tyler, I’m not letting you leave me. I’ve been alone for too goddamned long, and I refuse to allow you to break our bond.” I’d told Delilah, disguised as Tyler, that I loved him. But had I told the real Tyler? “You said I didn’t have to love you back, but I do. I love you, damn it. I love your smile and your smell and the annoying way you follow me around. I love that you love me despite my faults, what I’ve done, and who I am. And I love that you’re not afraid of me.” I laid my lips to his temple. “I. Love. You.”
If anyone was going to drink my oh-so-special blood, it was going to be Tyler. It had turned stone to flesh, and what I wanted right now was less a feat than that. He’d bound us by magic, perhaps something deeper still, and I was going to bind us by blood. I could heal almost instantaneously. Could my blood heal Tyler as well? I took the dagger stained with Azriel’s blood. I wiped it clean on my shirt and swiped it across my pants for good measure. Drawing a breath, I sliced the blade across my palm and waited for the ribbon of blood. It welled up and I made a fist, holding it over Tyler’s mouth, which I pried open with my other hand. Crimson droplets splashed against his teeth and dripped into this throat.
I healed so much faster now, I had to reopen the wound three times. Squeezing my fist each time, I willed every drop I could, and it came faster, running in a tiny stream. I didn’t know how much to give him. I wasn’t even sure if it would work. A few seconds passed, and I pulled my fist away and watched as the wound closed before my eyes. I marveled at the changes in me, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. I closed Tyler’s mouth and massaged his throat to aid in swallowing. I said a silent prayer, and then I waited.
Maybe I needed to chant a set of magic words, or something. My love for Tyler had been the ingredient needed to create life. Surely my love for him now was all I needed to save his. I sat for what seemed like an eternity, but nothing happened. He lay still and peaceful, his chest rising and falling as it had every day for weeks.
“If you don’t wake up in thirty seconds, I’m outta here—for good,” I said.
Turning on a heel, I walked toward the door, my steps in perfect time with the passing seconds.
Three . . . two . . . one . . .
“Is there anything in your wardrobe that isn’t black?” Tyler’s voice was little more than a whisper, calling out from behind me. “Don’t get me wrong. You look great. Sexy in a badass sort of way.”
My heart swelled in my chest as I turned to face him. I smiled, finally
wanting
him to see the trace of warmth his nearness caused in me.
Tyler never disappoints.
Amanda Bonilla
lives in rural Idaho with her husband and two kids. She’s a part-time pet wrangler, a full-time sun worshipper, and only goes out into the cold when coerced. When she’s not writing, she’s either reading or talking about her favorite books. For more about Amanda, visit
www.amandabonilla.com
.
Read on for a peek at the next novel in the Shaede Assassin series,
BLOOD BEFORE SUNRISE
 
Available from Signet Eclipse in July 2012.
 
 
“
W
hat are you looking at?”
I tore my gaze from the delicate curve of the dagger’s blade, my eyes drawn to Azriel’s dark, handsome face like a magnet to metal. “Nothing, ” I said, though that wasn’t entirely true.
“Ever lacking patience,” he said with humor. “You’ll never make it as an assassin if you can’t wait more than a few minutes to get a job done.”
True enough, I supposed. I liked to wait about as much as I liked to be doused with gasoline and set on fire. “Lorik’s late,” I said. “It’s not like him.”
Azriel stroked his finger along my jaw and his eyes burned with an intensity that had nothing to do with business. “It matters little to me if he shows or not. Either way, my night won’t be wasted.”
I flushed at the innuendo, knowing all too well where a jobless night would lead us. Not that I’d complain . . .
An engine growled in the distance, followed by the squealing of tires. The Cadillac LaSalle Roadster came to a halt inches from where I stood, and the driver’s expression was full of adrenaline-infused excitement. Lorik loved flashy cars, and despite the fact that he needed to lay low, he could never resist showing off. What’s the point in not putting that engine and sleek body to use? He’d consider it a waste. Besides, I had a suspicion that the combination of fancy car coupled with his pinstriped suit and fedora pulled low over his brow made Lorik feel like he’d just pulled a bank caper. Driving into the sunset and immortal glory would be the icing on the cake. And I’d be willing to bet a Chicago typewriter rode shotgun to round it all out. I mean, what self-respecting gangster
didn’t
have a machine gun in the front seat?
“Looks like your clothes will be on for a while longer, my love.” Azriel leaned down and pressed his mouth to the pulse point just below my ear.
I shivered at the contact, suddenly not caring whether Lorik’s life was in danger or not. Though the guy’s father did pay our bills, I supposed I could put my erotic thoughts on hold. But if he didn’t get down to business—and soon—he could rot in hell for all I cared.
 
“What are you looking at?” Tyler asked again, his tone bemused when I didn’t answer him right away.
“Nothing,” I finally said as I stared at the spot near the alley where that LaSalle had come to a skidding stop all those years ago. “Not a damn thing.”
God, I hadn’t thought of that crazy Armenian in decades. He had to have been dead for a while now, if someone hadn’t managed to do the deed in his youth. Lorik had been the closest thing Azriel had to a friend. I always wondered about it, the comfortable way Azriel had with him. Usually we lay lower than low, but with Lorik, Azriel had allowed us to let our guard down a bit. Maybe I’d do some digging just for shits and giggles. Find out what really happened to him after he went off the grid. Because I had
so
much free time on my hands these days.
My annoyance wasn’t so much about memories of Lorik—and Azriel—intruding on my thoughts. Or even my lack of actual downtime. Rather, it was due to the fact that I stood at yet another dead end. It’s damn hard to catch someone who’s always one step ahead of you.
And chasing an Oracle is like chasing the wind.
I drove my katana into the scabbard at my back. Yet another close call, and the bitch had slipped right through my fingers. You wouldn’t think someone as blind as a bat could escape so easily.
But she had.
For months.
Time and again.
A discarded can nudged at my toe and I kicked it, sending it sailing down the sidewalk toward the street, narrowly missing a parking sign. I was beyond frustrated, and my agitation settled as a knot between my shoulder blades. I stretched my neck from side to side in a futile effort to ease the mounting tension. Raif, my mentor and the best friend I’ve ever had, laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll get her.”
Tyler took a step closer, his body touching mine in more places than was appropriate for work hours. He snaked an arm around my waist as he brought me against him, his eyes narrowing in Raif’s direction.
Jeez, touchy much?
Raif shook his head. He looked at me, his expression saying,
Is he for real?
I raised my brows, which was as good as a shrug. I had no idea what had gotten into Tyler, but I could almost hear the predatory growl, the low rumble of a wary bear. “Relax, Jinn,” Raif said, tucking a dagger into a sheath at his side. “You look a little wound.”
“Not hardly,” Tyler said, his tone just on the edge of becoming hard. “In fact”—he lowered his face to the top of my head and nuzzled my hair—“I’m pretty damned relaxed right now.”

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