BROKEN BLADE (30 page)

I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, but I didn’t say anything. I was good at gauging a person’s strength. My life had too often depended on it, and it went deeper than that anyway. It was just part of what I was.

“A lot of independents aren’t that strong,” I said.

“Is your boy?”

My boy. I huffed out a breath and leaned back against the car. “Damon, I told you months ago that Justin and I used to have something. Then we didn’t. That hasn’t changed. So just shelve the…whatever.”

His stony face didn’t change. At all. He jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not like it’s any of my business, right?”

“No.” Why did it seem like the bite marks on my neck, my wrist, were
burning
? I resisted, just barely, the urge to reach up and rub the one on my neck. Damon’s eyes all but burned into mine and I think we both knew we weren’t being entirely truthful. I couldn’t get involved with another man…not when I was still hung on him. It just wasn’t in me. And the bastard knew it.

I’ll be waiting
…

I glared at him. “Just shelve it, okay?”

“Shelving it.”

He didn’t even move and the air, the space between us had shrunk down to nothing.

I needed to think about something else,
anything
else but what was in my head just then. I needed something else
in
my head but him. Tearing my gaze away, I focused on the looming monolith of the Lair at his back. “If Justin decided to pull a coercion spell on you, he might be able to do it. You might be able to break it. The two of you would probably end up killing each other. So keep having those happy, bloody thoughts, Damon.” I flicked my bangs out of my eyes and tried not to tense when he came around the car, closing the distance between us to just a few inches. It might have been two inches. Three. But it was too close.

I could feel the heat of him, so close, so enticing. Some part of me wanted to just bury myself against him and stay there. Forever. Instead, I shrugged and tried to feign nonchalance. “Don’t go getting a hard-on about the idea or anything. Justin doesn’t use coercion spells. It goes against his…sense of fair play. He’d kill a person without blinking but he doesn’t use unnatural magics.”

“Unnatural…” Damon’s voice was a low growl.

I shot him a look.

“What the fuck is an unnatural magic? It’s all unnatural.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s not. Especially for a witch. 
Unnatural
magics require pulling up dark powers and dark shit and darkness you don’t want to think about. The darker witches would have Annette look like a sweet little dream and the more you cross those lines, the blurrier they get…and one day, you don’t realize it, but you’re one of those darker witches…somebody who would suck the soul from your mother, your father, your brother, your sister, your child…all to power up your spell, because it needed a strong life force…and they had the strongest around. There are lines with magic that just can’t be crossed. Justin knows those lines…and he stays away. He’ll break every line anybody else might draw…but the laws of magic, he’ll respect those, and he’ll hunt down the people who go over it. He’s a good man for me to have at my back.”

Read between the lines: I need him right now. Leave it alone
.

Damon reached up. I held still as he brushed his hand down my hair. “Why do I get the feeling that you are trying to tell me something?”

“Because I am.”

Some of the tension faded away and a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “I’m not ever going to like the man, kitten. Deal with it. But he was the one who helped Doyle key in on where you were. That’s one thing I won’t
ever
forget.” His gaze held mine and unspoken words passed between us. My heart slammed hard against my ribs as he cupped my cheek and pressed his thumb against my lip. “He was the one who realized something was wrong. I won’t forget
that
either.”

Then his hand fell away and he shifted his attention to stare off past my shoulder. “If he’s the man who’s going to protect your back in this, I’m not going to fuck with him, either. Now…about the bigger problem…”

I swallowed the knot in my throat and wished I could compartmentalize the way he seemed to do. He didn’t brush it off, but he had a way of focusing on the things that needed to be done. The bigger problem. Yeah, let’s think about that.

That problem that was likely going to turn me into a messy smear on the pavement once she realized I wasn’t going to turn the damn vase over to her. Once she figured out that I planned on giving the damn thing to the witches and seeing if they couldn’t do a Hail Mary or whatever that stupid thing was called.

“So, the control thing…” Damon said, a pulse pulsing in his cheek.

I made a mental note. Want to see him tighten up real fast? Mention anything related to an ancient uber-bitch having control over him.

“If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it would be like one of the coercion spells, but without the spell. If you are her original creation, that means problems for you.” I studied his face. “It’s one of the basic laws of magic. Do you get that?”

“In theory. Dunno if I agree with the entire thing.” He jerked one shoulder in a shrug. “I assume you’re leading into the parental law of magic—sadly, that’s one of the laws I do think is probably true. We’re magical creatures whether we like it or not. Magic follows certain rules and one of them is that fucked-up parental mess. Most of us feel bound—or
are
bound to—those who made us. It’s why younger vamps can’t leave their masters until they reach a certain level of power—or unless the master dies. Why the lesser were always submits to the stronger.” A sneer twisted his lips. “Why in our world, might still makes right and fuck those who get screwed by it.”

“Well. Yeah. That’s it, in theory…and in a nutshell.”

He’d summarized it in a few sentences. Witches studied the laws of magic, including the parental law. And he broke it down to the nuts and bolts. “If she’s your creator, the parental law will probably come into play. But success, like most magics, depends on any number of factors—with this, I’d imagine it depends on her will, her target’s will and her…state of health.”

His brows ratcheted up. “Her state of health.”

“Injury always throws a practitioner off. If she’s weakened or tired…age could play into it, but she’s an ancient. I don’t know if age slows her down.” If she could be injured, she could be killed. If it bled, it died. I wanted to see if I could make her bleed. If she could…that changed the playing field. A lot.

But the vase first.

“You think the more dominant weres can throw her off?”

Coercion and compulsory spells could be overthrown, if the target had it in him. It was physically and mentally painful, but they could still do it. That wasn’t the big problem, though.

I blew out a breath and leaned back against the car, staring at him. I had to make him see. “Whether or not they can isn’t the point,” I said, watching as his eyes narrowed on my face. “Dominants are outnumbered…what, three to one?”

“Doesn’t matter.” His gray eyes held mine.

So much confidence. So much strength. Normally, I admired that. I’d love to be able to walk through the world and know so little fear, to know that I had the strength to take down not just
anything
, but a
number
of anythings. I fought and clawed for every damn step I took, it seemed like. Even getting out bed anymore.

But that confidence didn’t serve him now.

“Damon, if she can throw them in your way like fodder, it matters.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw and understanding dawned in his eyes.

“That’s going to be one of your big problems, Damon…her turning your own people against you. And…” I rubbed the spot between my eyes as a headache started to pulse. “Clara.”

I could practically feel his confusion.

From under my lashes, I watched him.

“Clara.” He shook his head and then, just like that, I saw the knowledge flood his eyes. “She’s the one, isn’t she?”

“That’s what my gut says,” I told him. “I didn’t want to say anything around MacDonald or any of the others. People are going to panic—”

It’s not panic, child. Kill the girl and you take away her options. It’s wise thinking
…

I squeezed my eyes shut as that voice echoed somewhere deep in the back of my head. Maybe I’d lost my mind for real up on that mountain. Clearing my throat, too aware of him watching me, I forced myself to go on. “They’ll panic and think the right choice is to just kill the girl, and her baby.”

His eyes were hard as stone. I couldn’t figure out a single thing he was thinking.

“She may not be the only one. And you can’t let your cats just randomly start slaughtering any pregnant female you come across.”

“Anybody who touches her is going to have to go through me,” he said, his voice soft.

I swallowed and looked away. “I can’t tell you how to protect her. Once she put herself in your hands, she became one of yours and I know that. But the best course of action is to gather up a few of your enforcers, the ones you trust the most, and have them escort her to Green Road. Immediately.”

The need to refuse was strong. I could see it burning in his eyes. Instead of saying it outright, though, he turned away, hands braced on his hips, head bowed. “Why? I can protect my people, Kit.”

The silence that fell between us was awkward. Awkward and ugly and when he turned back to me, the look on his face was one of…I can’t even describe it. He looked like he wanted to just gut himself. “Fuck.” It came out of him in an explosive rush. “I guess we know that’s a fucking lie, don’t we?”

“I’m not one of your people, Damon,” I said softly.

“But you were mine…and I failed you.”

This time, it was my turn to look away. “It was up to me to protect myself.” My throat felt raw and the awful, terrible void in my chest grew larger and larger. “Hell, how many times did I
tell
you to let me have my space?”

Odd…I hadn’t thought of that until now. I had been so angry at him—still was. I was just angry in general, but what good did it do? “We couldn’t have seen it coming, you know. And if he didn’t come after me that night, he would have tried some other night. If we’re going to sit around being pissed, being angry, throwing blame, let’s throw it where it belongs…at his feet.”

I shoved off the car and went to climb in.

“You know I’m already trying to figure out the best way to kill him when he comes out of that box.”

Those words, so calmly, flatly spoken made me smile a little. Shooting Damon a look, I shrugged. “I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to kill him while he’s still inside it.”

It almost felt good to smile. Too bad I couldn’t enjoy it.

“I need to go,” I said softly, as the weight on my shoulders pushed down harder, heavier.

“Before you do…” Damon’s words came slow, drawing my gaze back to him. “I don’t have any right to ask, but I’m doing it anyway.”

He wasn’t looking at me.

I angled my head and watched as Doyle came striding toward us.

Damon said, “Take the kid.”

“What? No. Hell, no. She’s going to target on me anyway—”

“Kit. Please.”

Well, so much for that nice, warm-and-fuzzy moment I’d thought we’d almost had. Gaping at him, I demanded, “Do you not
hear
me?”

“He asked.” Damon took a step toward me, his voice low, all but pulsing with intensity. “He doesn’t ask for shit, but he came to me and told me the same damn thing he told me months ago, when you went missing…he said you were going to need him on this. He told me that then and I didn’t listen—I was too busy trying to
find
you and he already knew where to start looking. He’s the reason we found you and if his gut is telling him that you’ll need him, then I’m
not
going to ignore that.” He paused and then shook his head. “Not now. Never again, Kit.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Doyle waited in my living room.

In a very short amount of time, I was going to have to pull out all the stops and do something I hadn’t done in ages—breaking and entering,
aneira
style, but instead of focusing on that, I was thinking about Doyle.

The teenaged shapeshifting tiger who was prowling my living room, waiting for me to take him with me while I went all B&E.

I was so pissed I couldn’t see straight.

What really bothered me was the fact that my gut said he wasn’t going to cause problems.

If I thought he was, I’d find a way to get rid of him. Probably via Justin. Justin knew how to deal with that sort of thing. Temporary fixes, permanent fixes, fixes that wouldn’t leave any lasting damage and fixes that weren’t really fixes at all.

But I didn’t think that was the answer here and the more I steamed, the more my gut told me everything was
fine
.

That
just made me madder.

So I made myself stop brooding and locked myself in my room, muscling my bed out of the way.

There were…tools…in here.

Tools. Yeah. Right.

Objects of death and destruction. Cursed weapons, magicked weapons, some of them were items I
never
should have taken into my possession but once I’d found them…well, leaving any weapon lying in the blood and dirt and gore was a bad idea, but relics? Really stupid.

So, tools.

They were protected by spells and charms and if you didn’t know
exactly
where to look for them, you weren’t going to find them. Even if you did know where to look, you wouldn’t want them. I avoided them at all cost when I was here. As long as I didn’t actively seek them out, the spells left me alone, but if I went looking…well. That was when the magic kicked in.

The beauty of the spells. They made the eye not want to see. The spells were made to allow me to touch them, sleep above them, but now as I sought them out, the spells kicked in.

All it took was sinking to my knees and already I wanted to look away…that’s how strong they were. It was different on somebody unaware of the spells—they’d just feel inclined to avoid that area of my room, but really, how often did a person go investigating the floorboards under somebody else’s bed?