Authors: M.J. Scott
Shadow Kin (16 page)
The side of her mouth lifted. Close to a smile. It made my heart beat a little faster. Which made me, in turn, wish to beat my head against the window of the ’cab. I needed to guard myself. She was going to leave and she wouldn’t care if she had to walk over my bleeding body to do so. Especially once she learned what I wanted her to do.
I’d wanted to set her free. And that must, by sheer logic if nothing else, include allowing her to be free of me, should she so choose. Though likely Guy wouldn’t see it that way.
“Maybe that was all part of my elaborate plan,” Lily said.
Was that a joke? I allowed myself a small slice of hope. Humor. A sign that, maybe, something survived under all the ice despite Lucius’ best efforts. That I wasn’t being ruled by my body and there might well be truth to my instincts about her. If I could make her smile, then I might be able to find a chink in her armor and get through to the real Lily below. “I didn’t think Lucius was the elaborate plan type.”
Her face grew still. “Don’t underestimate Lucius,” she said. “He always gets what he wants.”
Not this time
. At least not while I had anything to say about it. “We’ll take care of you,” I repeated.
. At least not while I had anything to say about it. “We’ll take care of you,” I repeated.
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Lily, I’m a healer in this city. My brother is a Templar. I’m not, by any definition of the word, naive about what goes on in the Night World. And I’m not helpless.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Good. Remember that.” I braced myself as the ’cab hit a particularly bad pothole. I appreciated the extra speed a’cab offered but was yet to be convinced that the clattering, steam-belching machines were superior in any other way to carriages.
Lily slid a little on the seat but caught herself. She pushed herself back toward the door with a frown. “Regardless, the shields are pointless.”
“Why?”
“You’re taking me to St. Giles. Don’t you have Fae working there?”
“Yes. And?”
“Any Fae who sees me will know what I am. They’ll know who I am. Once the Veiled Court knows where I am, it won’t take long for word to spread.”
Sun’s blazing balls. I’d forgotten that part. Fae who could sense human magic in the next room could probably feel a wraith at a thousand paces. But if Lily claimed Haven, then everyone in St. Giles was bound to render her assistance. Which included keeping their mouths shut about her whereabouts. It wouldn’t last forever. Leaks were bound to happen—after all, someone had told Lucius something to make him want me dead—but it might buy us enough time. There were plenty of places in the hospital where we could keep her relatively isolated.
“The hospital staff will respect Haven laws.” I’d just have to keep her away from the patients and visitors.
That earned me a headshake. “The humans will not thank you for bringing me there, the Fae even less so. Even if Lucius respects the rules, what happens next? I can’t spend my life in a Haven.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m going to ask Guy whether he did drop you on your head after all.”
“My head is just fine.”
“Then what is your explanation, sunstroke?”
“Trust me, there has never, in the history of the world, been a sunmage who got sunstroke.” That much was truth. The sun couldn’t hurt me. Not my skin. Not my head. But if sunlight couldn’t hurt me, it was becoming more apparent with every passing second that, if I weren’t careful, Lily likely would.
Something about her tugged at me. Which was more than crazy. I needed to be careful. Not let my instincts run away with me. Right now she sat beside me under sufferance.
Part of me knew she’d run if given the chance.
The question was how to make her feel like she didn’t need to. It would take caution and finesse. Like trying to coax a wild thing close, I needed her to trust me before I let her know what I wanted from her. And before I could think of there being . . . anything more.
I shifted on the seat as the ’cab hit another pothole, sliding toward Lily a little. She shrank away.
Proof positive that she didn’t trust me at all. My jaw tightened. “Why is it so hard to believe that I want to help you?”
“Because people don’t just help others for no reason. They’re all playing their angles. The sane ones anyway.”
Guilt tugged again. Those gray eyes saw too clearly. “Is that what you’re doing? Playing the angles?”
A shrug. “At this point I’m mostly trying to just keep breathing.”
“That’s what I want too. I’m on your side.”
She cocked her head, considering. “You’re playing your own angle too.”
“Who says I have one?” I hoped she wouldn’t see the lie in my face or the guilt. I wasn’t ready to show my hand just yet.
“Like I said, there’s always an angle. How does this story go in your head, Simon? You rescue the poor trapped creature and in gratitude she falls into your bed?”
Maybe part of it went something like that. But I wasn’t lack-witted enough to say
that
out loud at least. “No.”
that
out loud at least. “No.”
“You’re lying.”
Suns. Could she actually tell? She was half Fae, after all. Or was she bluffing? I chose to believe the latter. “I’ve never had any trouble filling my bed, sugar.” I let my accent stretch into a parody of Guy’s Territory-tinged drawl. “I don’t need to chase the unwilling. You need to trust me.”
Her face suggested she wasn’t fooled. “Why?”
“Well, so far I haven’t killed you or even tried to kill you,” I offered. “Nor has my brother tried to kill you. I will point out that you, in fact, have tried to kill me. I also saved you at Halcyon. I think I’ve earned a little trust.”
“I—”
Her words cut off as the ’cab screeched to a halt. I threw an arm forward to brace against the seat, and the impact jolted through me like a thump from one of Guy’s wooden training blades. I let the shields fall. “What the hell was that?”
The driver looked pale. “There was someone—something—in the road.”
Gods and fucking suns. This day was only hours old and it was nothing but one disaster after another. “Did you hit them?”
“Don’t know. I can’t see anybody.”
I leaned forward trying to see out the windshield. Unfortunately, the ’cab was a Mercury, long nosed and bulky, and it was impossible to see if anyone lay on the road near the front tires. I reached for the door handle.
Lily’s hand clamped round my arm. “Don’t go out there.”
“Someone could be hurt.”
“It could be set up.”
She was right, of course. But still. I couldn’t take the risk. “I’m a healer,” I said shortly. “This is what I’m sworn to do.”
“What? Get killed?” Lily snarled. I ignored her and pushed the door open.
I reached Simon just as he started to bend toward the motionless man lying in the road in front of the cab and grabbed his jacket, wrenching him back. “No.”
“He’s hurt.”
There was blood on the man’s face, true. Trouble was, to me, that blood smelled of Beast Kind. Earthy and musky and wild. Dangerous.
My spine crawled again. Watchers. Just the bystanders rapidly gathering or were there other Beasts nearby?
“Let the driver dealer with it. We should go.” I looked around. A small crowd was forming around us and ’cabs, carriages, and other traffic halting behind our ’cab. All humans as far as I could tell, not the too-tall figures of Beasts in human form. Still, too many people. Too exposed.
We’d stopped opposite a row of crowded brick terraces, the paintwork on the windows and doors peeling and stained. Definitely still a border borough, though I wasn’t sure which one. “We should go,” I repeated.
Simon shook me off. “I can’t leave someone lying hurt in the road.”
“He’ll be fine,” I said. I kept one eye on the body and another on the crowd. Farther down the road the terraces changed to what looked like shops and maybe a livery. Faces were peering out the windows, and the crowd around us was thickening.
“What, you’re a healer now?”
“He’s breathing. There are plenty of people here to help. He’ll be fine.” I lowered my voice. “He’s
Beast Kind
.”
Beast Kind
.”
Simon raised his chin, determination clear on his face. “I don’t leave when people need help.”
His voice was disapproving. I had a sudden flash of him asking me whether I had come to kill him because of him stitching up a Rousselline pup. Idiot man. He truly didn’t care that the man lying there might be a Beast. He only cared that he could help. “This is a trap,” I hissed, drawing my dagger.
Simon ignored me and moved closer to the prone body. The man’s chest rose and fell slowly. Apart from the blood on his face, I couldn’t see any wounds. The stink of Beast filled my nose. If the man wasn’t Beast Kind, then he’d doused himself in Beast Kind blood.
I drew my dagger, watching carefully for any sign of movement. Simon had shoved the pistol into his belt. My hand itched, wanting the extra weapon badly.
Simon squatted beside the man, then reached down toward his wrist. I moved before I knew what I was moving for, but I was still too slow. The Beast sat up with a roar, his hand starting to twist and change as he swung for Simon. I threw myself forward, trying to push Simon out of the way as I reached for the gun.
Too slow.
The Beast hit Simon in the chest, knocking him backward. I half-fell, what I’d been reaching for suddenly not there. Lucky for me, as my crouched position meant the Beast’s backhand missed me, whistling over my head.
I had time to register the fact that his hand was now sprouting a nasty set of claws before I pushed myself up and forward to where Simon was rolling to a stop.
I didn’t know if he was hurt. I couldn’t see blood, so I guessed it was lucky that the Beast hadn’t fully changed his hand before he’d hit Simon. Simon started to rise, diving for the gun, which had fallen free at some point.
This time I was faster. I had to be. Simon was unlikely to survive a direct hit from those claws to any vulnerable part of his body. I at least was wearing leather and had the advantage of speed and strength and faster healing.
My hand closed around the gun and I spun as I straightened, bringing it up to shoulder level.
The Beast was close, too close. He screamed at me, making a sound a human throat shouldn’t be able to voice as he swung again with those claws. I dodged but not quite fast enough. His paw connected, claws slicing through my vest and tearing the skin beneath.
He got my torso, not my arm, knocking me off balance, but I kept my feet and my grip on the gun. As the Beast screamed again, I raised the pistol and put a bullet straight through the middle of his forehead.
Chapter Seven
The Beast dropped where it stood, its face frozen midchange. The scream choked into a gurgle that died by the time the sodden thump of the body hitting the cobbles sounded. Apparently Guy used silver bullets. Suddenly I felt quite friendly toward the Templars. But I wasn’t taking any chances. I kept the gun aimed at the Beast, debating the need for a second shot.
The size of the hole in the Beast’s head suggested not, as did the rapidly spreading pool of blood around the body. A very old vampire might be able to heal such a wound, but I doubted a Beast could.
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