Chapter Four

Shade cringed as Celine Dion’s voice echoed throughout her house. It pained her to listen to the heartfelt words knowing that love was a crock of shit. Stuffing several black shirts in a duffle bag, she conceded that some people believed they were in love. Seeing the Oculum and his mate interact was proof there was some strong emotion between them, but she knew better than to call it ‘love’.

She let the resentment and anger build. Preparing for a job was the only time she allowed emotion to rule her. The CD of sappy, sugary love songs was her means of reaching for the negative feelings she fed on, shaping them into a ball in the pit of her stomach. Pressing a hand to her abdomen, she took a deep breath. There were no touchy-feely emotions in her repertoire.

Shade paused in the act of grabbing her knife kit.

Feelings she’d long suppressed with Luther’s not-so-gentle help welled inside her. She needed to get a grip before she lost all sense of herself. If she survived this damned assignment, she’d be shipped off to the Overlord’s keep unless she could find some place to hide.

Shade snorted loudly. She knew better than anyone that hiding from the Overlord was an exercise in futility. If only she had someone to watch her back, someone she could trust, the unbidden thought crept into her brain before she could stop it.

Her wings burst from the slits on her back, unfurling with a hiss. Black, wispy with an iridescent sheen on the underside, they arched away from her body, draping around her like a shroud.

She had no time for kindness. Her life was on a timetable. Luther would call her back if he knew what she was planning to do. He would call her back anyway, once he realized the target hadn’t been eliminated immediately.

Clutching her hands to her temples, she fought to push the pain and images of what he could do from her mind. She’d had nearly a century to get over it, get over him, but the pain was always there ready to bring her down. The images flowed faster and faster like some kind of gruesome movie in her head.

“Stop!” she screamed, reaching out to grab something to end the mental torment. Her fingers closed around an object, a knife.

She wouldn’t cut herself. She wasn’t crazy, but gripping something in her hand made her feel better. That it was a weapon made her calmer. Then a sudden image of Luther when he’d been kind to her flashed through her mind. Searing pain lanced her chest causing her to drop the knife. It fell. Right into her thigh.

Instant pain removed any thought of Luther and her stupidity from her mind. Gasping in relief, Shade looked down to see the knife embedded in her thigh. Shit. Another pair of pants ruined. In her normal detached manner, she jerked the knife out in a quick, smooth motion. Great, just great. She’d grabbed one of the iron knives in her kit, not silver. Blood blossomed, dripping down her leg.

Stripping off the pants, Shade walked to the bathroom ignoring the twinges of pain accompanied by the movement of her muscles. Placing the knife on the counter, she unearthed her first aid kit, looking for gauze.

“Godsdamn, I’m stupid,” she mumbled as she propped her foot on the lid of the toilet. Cleaning the wound, she saw she’d managed to bury the knife deep enough to see bone. “Fuck,” she grunted as she began swiping at the wound.

Iron could be deadly to fairies unless they built up a resistance to it like she had. Being punished for fifty some odd years straight with iron shackles, knives, pokers, and whatever other devices Luther used had given her a strong resistance. The blood continued to well, flowing freely. She didn’t smell skin burning and though her leg felt like it was on fire, Shade thought she might’ve taken the knife out in time.

Holding a gauze pad to the wound, she quickly wrapped her leg. That would have to do until she could moonbathe. Calmly, she set about cleaning up the blood, mopping it off the floors, sponging it up from the cabinets though the metallic scent lingered. As much as she hated cleaning, blood was not a good decorating idea.

She finished packing her bags, keeping her mind carefully blank. Five pairs of black jeans joined the T-shirts along with black socks, and several more knives. She added a case of throwing stars, a bundle of throwing knives disguised as hair pins, and a retractable sword. The duffle bag bulged with weapons, but she paid no mind. There was no telling where this foolish plan would lead her.

Celine had given way to Whitney Houston by the time she could go outside to moonbathe. Removing all of her clothing, she walked through the house to the conservatory. She left the door open so she could continue listening to her preparation music.

Petals, soft as velvet and powerfully fragrant, brushed her skin as she moved through the aisles of flowers. Shade didn’t allow herself to be tempted into returning the caress of the flowers. She didn’t want to be soothed. She needed to keep her edge sharp and deadly. The flowers seemed to bobble sadly as though knowing her plans. Not that she really believed the flowers understood her moods, but she…very nearly cared for them, as much as she was able.

The door to her tiny backyard beckoned. Stepping through the threshold, she was immediately surrounded by the glorious beams of the moon. Shade raised her hands to the sky as though to embrace it. She felt its energy pouring into her body. Fairies had to recharge their energy under the pale power of the moon otherwise they would weaken quickly, their magic failing them at inopportune moments.

Shade’s wings, which she’d left open, unfurled to their full width, catching as much of the beams as they could. The gentle energy flowed into her body, filling her up. It brought no peace though, it never did. The moon might be a beautiful form of nourishment, but Shade always saw it as a cold mother, looking down at her children with detachment. Tilting her head back to stare at the orb in the sky, she knew she patterned herself after it. Distanced. Cold. Empty of life, but capable of so much.

She remained outside for hours soaking up as much of the moon magic as she could. Glamour was easy magic for her, but it would be even more difficult this time since she also had to modulate her voice. The wound in her thigh was nearly closed, though the scar would remain. Iron-inflicted wounds never vanished, as evidenced by the numerous scars on her body.

Dressed again in black jeans and a black T-shirt, she was almost ready. Walking to the small box on her dresser, she pulled out three strips of black leather. She didn’t want to put them on. They reminded her too much of the shackles she’d once worn, but it was because of those shackles she had to wear the bands. Swiftly wrapping one around the iron burn around her throat and one around each of her wrists, she took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do any good for her target to see the markings.

With her bags in hand, and the torment in her head quiet, Shade cut off Diana Ross in mid-note as she sang Endless Love. The last echo of the singer’s voice bounced around the living room. The silence encroached scorching her eardrums. Love. Who the fuck needed it?

*****

Malachi sat in his study the next morning, poring over the logbook. There had to be something he missed, some piece of the puzzle just begging to be found. He sat back with a sigh. He wasn’t finding anything. Lucian had given the book to him when Council decided to allow his assistance. The book had belonged to a lower ranking member of the Eturian, a vicious weretiger who’d lived as more animal than human. Filled with names, dates, and code, the book was their only tangible link to the Eturi.

A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” he called across the room, frustration lending his voice a growl.

Hatot stood in the doorway looking shocked. “M-master, there is a Guardian here,” he whispered.

Gritting his teeth, Malachi growled out, “Send them in.”

Godsdamn Lucian! His damned brother was determined to protect him, which was laughable since Malachi was more lethal than any Guardian. He’d learned at the knee of the previous VPA Chief and his years with the Eturi had given him an even greater appreciation for danger. No Guardian would be able to match him in skill and sheer determination. But he could use the Guardian as a research assistant, he thought grimly. Maybe he needed a fresh set of eyes on the evidence. Satisfied that the Guardian would be utilized in such a way, he forced himself to relax.

His genial smile was ready by the time the Guardian’s shadow appeared in his doorway. The tiny figure seemed to dance into the room, steps touching the rugs so lightly it looked as though they were floating. Long light colored hair was pulled into a ponytail revealing a pointed chin, high cheekbones, arched silver eyebrows, and a pair of wide green eyes. He fought for air. She was gorgeous. Her skin was dove grey, glowing slightly. What the hell was she?

“You’re a fairy!” Malachi exclaimed with surprise. The female jumped slightly, her full lips parting.

He stood to welcome her, his earlier anger forgotten. He was seized by some strange compulsion to hover over her, especially when he came around the desk and saw she only came up to his shoulder. It was rare for him to meet females who weren’t his height or greater. The Veil was filled with women who stood on their own two feet and were comfortable with it. This female, this little fairy, looked as though she wanted to run as he came towards her.

She stood her ground though, jerking her little chin up to meet his eyes. The green was a startling shade against her grey skin. Malachi corrected himself, her skin wasn’t grey. It was almost tarnished silver. He wanted to touch her to see if it was as cold and hard as the metal, though he strongly suspected it would be soft as down.

“I’m Malachi Cromwell,” he said, bowing slightly, trying out his most charming smile. Females always trembled when he flashed this particular smile, but to his surprise, she looked aloof and unimpressed. “You’re a Guardian?” he asked with a playful smile. He was going to get a reaction out of her. Somehow.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Her voice sounded like the rasp of velvet brushing skin. He shivered, and then frowned. There was no emotion in her voice. No inflection to clue him in to what kind of fairy she was.

“I didn’t know there were fairy Guardians,” he tried conversationally. Ah-ha! A reaction at last.

“How do you know I’m a fairy?” she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.

He approved of the pose since it pushed her plump breasts together. Heat coiled in his belly. He knew his body was giving off the scent of lust, a scent all females were drawn to. Except she looked completely unaffected. What had she asked him? Something about fairies, he thought as his gaze traced across her face. Fairies. Oh, right.

“You were using glamour, I take it?”

Malachi tried not smirk. Fairies were masters at deception, but he was one of the few Veilerians who had the ability to see through their glamour. It pissed them off to no end that he could see to the real them. Just as it apparently pissed this little bit of a fairy off.

He gave her another smile. “Glamour doesn’t work on me, I’m afraid. Although I’m not that upset since your beauty should never be hidden behind a mask,” he uttered smoothly.

*****

Shade almost gaped at him. He could see her? Shit, he could see her! This wasn’t good at all. She struggled to contain her welling panic. Would he know exactly what she was other than fey? She would have prayed, but she had no faith in a higher power. She’d have to handle this herself except how should a female react when a handsome male flatters her? Her fingers twitched as she battled the urge to curl her hands into fists.

“We all hide behind masks,” she answered, keeping her voice from wavering with sheer force of will.

He smiled again, a dimple creasing his cheek. She wanted to stare at it, but she could sense he was used to females being in awe of him. She could see why, he had a magnetic personality and an irresistibly charming smile. Shade suspected her target very rarely failed to do exactly what he set out to do and at this moment, he was trying to charm her.

“Please, call me Malachi. And you are?” Again with the dimple.

“Lani Brown,” she said, extending her hand.

She didn’t want him touching her much less shaking her hand, but it was what business associates did. She’d seen that much on television. The name she used had been well established when she first became an assassin. When he checked her background, he’d find she had a clean record with the Guardian Guild. It was all bullshit, but the cover was one of the best, implemented back when they’d had an insider on Council.

She should’ve expected her target to be different. When her hand was presented in a businesslike manner, he grasped it in his much larger, warmer hand, bringing it to his lips. The strange sinking sensation she’d experienced the previous night returned sevenfold. His lips, chiseled yet velvety soft, brushed the back of her hand. Heat seared her skin, darting up her arm, and down her body. Heart pounding and mouth dry, she pulled her hand away.

“Beautiful,” he replied, not stepping away from her.

They stared at each other silently. Shade felt awkward, as though her skin had suddenly shrunk a size too small for her body. She forced herself to remain still and unaffected. She didn’t need any more complications in her life. This male had been sentenced to die by her hand and he would if she didn’t find him worthy of a reprieve.

Feeling as though she were smothering, Shade stepped away from him. Her breath was coming a little faster from his proximity and thoughts inside her head. She felt like her sanity was hanging by a very thin thread. Anything could snap it.

*****

“May I see your certification?” Malachi asked the silent fairy.

They’d stood so close he could smell her gardenia scented soap, but she’d said nothing. She’d stared him in the eye, her green gaze curiously flat and empty until she stepped back. She intrigued him, but he didn’t have time for females. If she was going to be of any help to him, they needed to get started.

He watched as she pulled a wallet out of her back pocket. She didn’t carry a purse, something he hadn’t seen often with females. The wallet flipped open to reveal the standard issue Guardian Elite identification badge. It agreed that she was Lani Brown. Her qualifications were listed as Weapons Master, Intermediate Magic User. He looked for the impossible-to-replicate Guild’s seal and found it. She was legit.

“Thank you,” he handed it back careful not to brush his fingers against hers. Kissing her hand had sent the heat in his belly spreading outwards and he didn’t want any repeats. He stepped away from her, waving to a chair. “Please, sit.”             

Keeping her in his sights, he walked to his own chair. He studied her across the desk, taking careful note of the thick leather band around her neck and wrists. He’d been around plenty of fairies and they usually abhorred anything around their pulse points, but this one seemed comfortable with the bonds. They gave her a BDSM vibe he found sexy as all hell.

“Did Lucian tell you what’s going on?” he asked to get the ball rolling.

“You’re searching for Eturian generals.”

“Right. I have a deal with Council to find and turn as many generals as I can over to them. Someone’s been killing them before I can find them.”

She was quiet, green gaze flickering over him as though judging him. Malachi stiffened. He’d had more than enough of being found wanting by The Veil. If this little fairy thought she could make him feel like less because of mistakes he’d made-

“Do you have any leads?” she cut off his train of thought with the logical question.

Her expression hadn’t changed one bit. Lucian should have told him he was sending an ice queen. This fairy was as cold and alien as he’d once thought Tia was.

“What I have is coded so tightly I can’t unravel it,” he admitted, his own voice carrying a bite of frost. Damned if he was going to give her the satisfaction of being the only one unaffected. Apparently unaffected, he amended ruefully. “I managed to come up with seven names. Five of those people have been executed in the last month. I need to apprehend the remaining two and find more.”

“Who are the last two?”

Wanting to snap at her for being so icy, Malachi forced himself to remain calm. Opening the logbook to the last place he’d decoded, he read the names, “Omar Pascal and Sharon Roberts. Pascal’s last known whereabouts was Tombstone, Arizona and Roberts was last seen in London.” He flipped the book closed again, leaning back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head in an easy posture. “So? What do you think?”

“Let me see the book,” she replied with easy calm.

Raising an eyebrow, he leaned forward to toss her the book. The fairy had quick reflexes as she caught it in a smooth movement that had the book flipped over as soon as it settled in her hand. He watched her as she looked over the pages of indecipherable markings. If he trusted, he would’ve allowed someone else to give breaking the code a try, but he didn’t trust anyone.

“Can you read it?” he asked impatiently. She’d been silent for a good five minutes while she looked at the page.

He almost swore she grimaced, but the expression came and went so fast he suspected he’d imagined it. When she did raise her head, her face was inscrutable. “I can read a little of it. It looks like a mixture of Fey and Cuman. Whoever wrote this had information about a meeting in February of next year. I’ll see what else I can find out, if you like.”

Malachi stared at her incredulously. His heart pounded. She’d picked up that much from studying the book for five minutes? Had he ruined his mission by being too stubborn to ask for help?

“I was a trained Guardian and I couldn’t decode that. Are they using a new training technique now?” he asked half-kidding.

She just studied him with a distant expression. “You could say that.”

“What’s Cuman?” he asked curiously, repressing the urge to shiver. Lani was a strange mix of fire and ice. He didn’t know whether he wanted to get closer or stay away and his dick didn’t get a vote.

“A Turkish language that’s supposed to be extinct,” she answered promptly. “Whoever wrote this part of the book is either very old or knowledgeable.”

“What do you mean whoever wrote this part of the book? It’s all written by one person.” He frowned at her.

She shook her head slightly. “Three different people wrote this book. The first part was written by one person, this section here,” she paused to show him a few pages. “This was written by someone else. The end of the book is written by yet a third person.”

Anger heated his blood. “How do you know that?” he demanded sharply.

She betrayed no hint of fear or unease. “The handwriting is similar, but the use of words is different, the looping of the vowels less angled, and the code itself changes to something more sophisticated.” She handed the book back to him, face carefully blank.

Astounded to have missed such a thing, Malachi flipped through the book finding the last page of what he’d deciphered and the first page of what Lani had deciphered. Flipping back and forth, he frowned at the pages. He couldn’t read the code to see if she was correct about the word usage, but the handwriting was just the slightest bit different. How had he missed this, he thought in despair. Months he’d wasted because of his pride.

“Do you want me to stay here or leave?” Lani asked him in a quiet voice.

Raising his head, he pinned her to the chair with his gaze. “You’re not going anywhere.”