Blade Song (12 page)

“Oh, please.” I sneered at him. “He’s been fighting his way into my dreams for years now and I’ve been saying no just fine.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed.

“You haven’t fed him?”

“What I have or haven’t done isn’t your concern. But here’s the thing.” I jerked on my wrist, and as I expected, he jerked me back, until I was nose to nose with him. “I’m about ass-deep in alligators right now, and not because I invited it or wanted it or even did anything to warrant it. I’m trapped. Whether I like it or not. And if I don’t find this kid, I’m looking at my own death…I figure it might not be a bad idea to have a way out. If that way is a vampire? So be it.”

“You really are a clueless fool.” He shook his head. “Just how sheltered a life have you led to think that a vampire is better than death?”

I leaned in, pressed my nose to his. “Sweetheart…you don’t know anything about the life I’ve led. But one thing I’ve figured out? As long as I’m alive? I’ve got a chance to get out of whatever hell I’ve landed in. If your bitch-queen kills me because you all couldn’t keep an unhappy kid from running away? Well…I can’t turn things around if I’m dead. As long as I’m alive, I’ve got that chance.”

The storm clouds in his eyes darkened to black. Flared. “You need to watch how you speak of her.”

“You’re right. She’s the Queen Bitch, not the bitch-queen. Absolutely, I’ll give respect where respect is due.” I tugged at my wrist again. “Now come on. Let’s go see what’s going on.”

He didn’t let go. “You haven’t answered me. Did he bite you?” His thumb stroked over the inside of my wrist and for some reason, it struck me. There was something almost gentle about his touch. “If I’m going to have to protect you from the fucking vampire on top of everything else, I need to know.”

I curled my lip. “I’ve been dealing with Jude in my life for six years. I think I got this.”

I carried a picture of Doyle in my back pocket.

I’d made a copy and tucked it in my pocket the day I accepted the case.

Maybe it was silly, but I wanted to remember what I was risking my life for. Who.

A kid.

A nervous, scared kid who wasn’t even sure he could survive the change from human to were.

He had blond hair, sleepy-looking eyes and the promise of what would be a killer smile. So much promise. And what was more…he had kind eyes. The kindness in his eyes hadn’t been lost on me.

It seemed that the cat shifters could use with more kindness in their ranks.

Chang had seemed the decent sort. A few others hadn’t been too bad. But most of them were caught up in the power play and it pissed me off that somebody who might have been one of the nice ones could be lost to them.

I knew his face now. He was mine. I’d do everything I could to find him and if I couldn’t find him, it would be because there was nothing left to be found.

On the way down to the cold lower level of Banner HQ, I slid my hand into my pocket and tugged out the picture of Doyle, rubbing it with my thumb. I didn’t look at it. There was no need. I knew his face well enough now that I could draw his picture. More than once, I’d found myself doing just that.

He didn’t look like his aunt.

Queen Bitch.

Would death be kind—?

No. I can’t think like that…can’t, I can’t, I can’t
….

A hand came up and closed over my neck as the elevator doors opened. The people trickled out, but before we could follow them, Damon hit the button to shut the doors and then he just held it. “Are you trying to push yourself into a panic attack?” he asked, dipping his head and growling right into my ear.

I drove my elbow into his stomach.

I might as well have been hitting steel for all the good it did.

I did it again anyway.

He swore and spun around, shoving my back against the elevator doors.

My hand itched—
bad, bad, bad
.

“Listen, little girl,” he snarled.

He reached for me.

I darted aside.

When he reached for me again, the blade was just there.

He stilled. The only sign of surprise was the slight widening of his eyes.

“Stop it,” I whispered, pointing the blade at him, leveled at his throat. “I’m tired of this, do you hear me?”

“You should put that thing away before you hurt yourself.”

I leaned in enough that it was pressed against his throat, watched as the tip pierced his skin. As smoke drifted from his wound to curl in the air, I glared at him.

“How did you get it past me this time?”

“And you keep calling me the idiot.” Blood stained the tip of my sword red now. The blade liked it. She wanted more. A lot more. “You saw me lock the damn thing up in the lockers upstairs, cat. Or are you blind?”

His nostrils flared, a growl rumbling through his throat.

“The two of us need to come to an understanding,” I said flatly. I twisted the blade, watched as it pushed a little deeper into his throat. “I’m dead if I don’t find this kid. If he’s down there on a slab, I’m dead, all because your crazed queen needs to blame somebody and it doesn’t matter if he’s been dead for ten minutes or ten days.”

His lashes flickered.

“Now I’m not going to whine about how unfair that is. Nor am I going to bitch about the fact that if you all had been doing your job by that boy, maybe he wouldn’t have run,” I added. “The bottom line is…he did run. And I’ve got a soft spot for kids. This is a well-known fact, a card your Alpha knew and worked to her advantage. Now…if that’s not him, we’ve still got a job to do. If it is him…well, I’ll deal some other way. But nevertheless, there’s a job to do and it’s not going to get any easier with us at each other’s throats.”

He snarled and pushed himself closer, driving the blade a quarter of an inch into his throat. “You think I want to be working with some crazy little bitch who can’t control her emotions?”

“Well, you worked with your Alpha,” I pointed out with a polite smile. “Face the facts. I’m not were. I respond to fear, anger, grief and all the other emotions. Those are my shortcomings, having human blood. You should have been prepared for that. If you’re not equipped to deal with it? That’s
your
shortcoming as one of the more alpha cats in the damned clan.” I smirked at him. “I keep hearing about your vaunted control. All the shifters are supposed to be in control. It’s what guides them through the spiking, adolescence. If you can get through that and not lose your marbles, it’s supposed to be smooth sailing.”

Damon glared at me.

“It seems to be a myth, if you ask me.” I twisted the blade and watched as blood trickled down. Flesh continued to burn and he just stood there. Oh, he had control, all right. He had it in spades.

“Is there a point to this or are you just really into having me wring your neck?” His voice was a growl too deep. The storm clouds in his eyes had changed, too—shifting to that eerie luminescence singular to felines. The pupils were changing.

Pushing too far, damn it. Oh, well.

“The point is…if you want this job done, you have got to get off my ass. I can’t do it with you growling at me. I can’t do it with thunderclouds over my head and I can’t do it if I’m worrying about an ax falling on my head at the first wrong move, if I’m worried about anything other than doing this damn job.”

Those eyes flashed again, and then, to my surprise, that eerie, flickering glow melted away and he stared at me with a human gaze. “Are you done?”

“Possibly.” I twisted the blade once more. Maybe I really
was
crazy. “Are we going to keep doing this or are you going to let me work?”

He reached up and closed a hand around the blade.

Shifter flesh met the enchanted silver and started to smoke. As he pushed it away, he leaned in and said, “You can work, little girl. But sooner or later, you and I are going to have a reckoning.”

“I can’t wait.”

It wasn’t Doyle.

Staring down into that battered, unrecognizable face, I couldn’t really even find any relief over the fact that it wasn’t the kid I was searching for.

Yay. I got to live a little while longer.

But this kid was dead, and he’d died horribly.

“It’s not him,” I said to Lincoln, still staring at his battered face.

“How can you be sure?” Lincoln stood next to him, his dark face dubious.

“For one…the hair is the wrong color. My kid is a blond. And… He’s not a cat. I think this boy was a wolf.” Even though life had left him, I could sense that fading energy. He hadn’t been dead long enough for it fade completely and I could still see it, hovering over him like a creature in mourning.

I could almost hear its grieving howl echoing through the air as I crouched down by the table, studying the disaster that had been his face. “Shit, what did they do to him, Linc?”

“Tortured him, poor kid,” the cop said, his voice heavy and tired. “How can you tell he’s not a cat? Our tests haven’t come back yet.”

I shrugged. “I just can.”

“You’re certain?” Lincoln asked.

Rubbing my temple, I sighed. “Certain? No. Not one hundred percent, but…”

“He’s a wolf,” Damon said from behind me.

Lincoln looked at him, then at me.

I shrugged. “Meet my bodyguard. One of the cat shifters. My gut says this is a wolf, but his nose would know for certain.”

Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Bodyguard, huh? Who exactly did you piss off enough to need a bodyguard?”

“You know me.” I rose and startled to circle around, studying the boy’s body. Spying a box of gloves on the table, I snapped a pair on and reached for his hand, eying it closely.

“Yeah. I know you. So the better question would be who haven’t you pissed off.”

I glanced up at him and saw the concern in his eyes. I shrugged. I wasn’t about to go into detail here and there wasn’t really any point anyway. How did I explain that I was working an impossible case where I was making people angry and the bodyguard was both my ball-and-chain and my life preserver? Linc would be worried enough to ask questions and those kind of questions wouldn’t help him, or me.

He’d probably be safe since he was human, but I wasn’t taking a chance. I liked Linc. He was nice to me and unlike a lot of humans, he didn’t treat the NHs of the world like shit. He was decent.

“Look at his hands,” I murmured. The tips of the kid’s fingers were raw, the nails nothing but nubs, bloodied and dirtied.

“They had him trapped somewhere,” Lincoln said. He pulled on a pair of gloves himself and moved to the opposite side of the body, lifting the hand and showing me those fingertips were in the same condition. “He tried to climb out. For a long, long while.”

Just thinking about that made me quake. It wasn’t a good thing to think about right now, so I decided to handle it in the most mature way possible. Denial.

Conscientiously, I continued to study the boy’s fingers, the scraped and bloodied raw tips. “He should have healed, though.”

“Not if they were starving him.” Damon came to stand beside me. A muscle jerked in his jaw. “It would be hard to say if he had gone through his first change or not, but if he had spiked or was going through the first few changes, he’d have to eat more than twice what a shapeshifter normally eats—building up reserves. And we eat a lot.”

Lincoln glanced up, then back down, keeping his attention focused either on the kid’s lifeless body or me for the most part. “So they probably had him a while.” He nodded. “Narrows the victim list down some.”

“The wolves will know who he is,” Damon pointed out. “Contact them. They are probably looking for him.”

I curled my lip. “Not everybody cares when their kids are missing or abused,” I said.

Weakling…your mother should have strangled you with your cord when she had you
…

I twitched as the voice of my grandmother whispered through my mind. Damn it. I usually managed to avoid thinking about her—sheer determination on my part, but something about this case was plucking at those memories.

Screw her. I am my mother’s daughter—
my heart is strong. My heart is strong
—

“Shifters take more care with their kids,” Damon said, that familiar snarl in his voice.

“Uh-huh. You saw a lot of care down in Wolf Haven, didn’t you?” I could have pointed out that I’d seen what a lovely parental unit Doyle’s aunt appeared to be. Definitely all full of sunny smiles and hugs, that one. But I decided not to bother.

Making another pass around the body, I studied his hair, his feet, noticing the shredded skin of his soles, the scrapes and bruises on his hands and legs. None of it told me anything. At least not yet. Just part of the puzzle for now.

Stripping off the gloves, I looked at Linc. “You going to call the wolf pack?”

“Planned on doing it after you left.” He smiled lazily. “I fumbled my way to that conclusion after you said wolf. I trust your instincts, Kitty girl.”

I heard the sarcasm in his voice, although I’m not entirely sure if Damon did.

“I assume their people will take it over?”

Linc shrugged. “That’s up to them. The body was found on common ground, outside of the wolf pack’s registered territory. But if he’s theirs, they have jurisdiction.”

I nodded and turned away. As an afterthought, I turned back. “Hey, can I give you my card? That way, you’ll have my cell. If you hear anything unusual that might tie into the runaway I’m looking for, maybe you can give me a call.” Just in case that wasn’t working, I gave him a gamine smile and tried to flutter my lashes.

Linc lifted a brow.

Flirtatious and charming. Obviously not my milieu.

“Sure, Colbana.” He stripped off his gloves and accepted the card I held out, giving me a solemn nod.

Linc was a sharp one, sharp enough that he’d probably pick up on the things I couldn’t say in front of my unwelcome bodyguard.

As I headed back out, I paused long enough to grab the sheet and pull it back up over the boy’s battered, broken body. “I hope somebody finds who did this,” I said to Linc. “I don’t care if it’s you, or the wolves. But somebody needs to suffer for this.”

Linc met my eyes, nodded shortly.