Iron (The Warding Book 1) (31 page)

I refused to call him Argoth. Fuck him and his having a normal name and a life and a history. He didn’t get that right, not after having ruined my life.

I took a deep, slow breath to steady myself. I gazed out the window at the slowly passing scenery, but that wasn’t exactly calming either. We were trekking deep into Riverview’s only truly “bad” neighborhood, a low-rent district not far from where the black dog hunt had taken place. It was a place the sunny little Caitlin Moore of six months ago would never have dared gone even in broad daylight, never mind at 4 in the morning, armed or no. The litter lined streets around us were dark and abandoned, lit only by the dull, yellowed light of the intermittent street lights. The storefronts here had no lighting of their own, though they had plenty of barred windows and heavy iron shutters. Bad mojo hung thick in the air. Swords and stilettos wouldn’t be worth dick if we ran afoul of whatever gang called this block home. Gannon’s dislike of guns wouldn’t stop one from putting an end to either of us quick.

We pulled up half a block away from our target. I could barely make out the crumbling stairwell that lead down to the basement apartment below a closed and shuttered store whose faded awning promised fancy dresses at a deep discount. My heart hammered in my throat. I said a quick prayer to whatever higher power might be floating around up there. I just wanted us to get in and out quickly, with one less troll on my tail.

Gannon hadn’t moved to exit the car. He sat very still, except for where his fingers were drumming lightly on the steering wheel. That was another of his nervous ticks that I had picked up on over the past few months. While I liked that I was learning to read him more and more, stoic expression or no, it didn’t bode well that even he was nervous about what we were about to do. I kind of needed him to be my calm and unflappable rock.

“What’s the plan?” I asked, licking lips suddenly gone dry.

“You’re not going to like it,” he said, voice low even though there was no one around to hear us.

“I figured that.” A nervous laugh escaped me. “Lay it on me.”

It was his turn to let out a long, low sigh. “I need you to go in first.”

My jaw was literally hanging open as I gaped at him. Had he lost his mind?

He seemed oblivious to my shock as he continued, “I don’t like using you as bait, but it’s the only way we’re going to get in there and not have this go down on the streets.”

“He’ll make mincemeat out of me.”

Gannon shook his head. “No, he won’t. You’re more valuable to him alive. Dead? The King won’t believe a word he says. It’ll be just another tall tale told by someone trying to get in good with royalty. Tiernan would have him executed on sight. Trolls might be slow, but they’re not stupid. Even Argoth has to know how fickle the King’s moods can be. He needs proof the Warding is alive and well, and being passed down to descendants here in your world.”

I took a deep breath and held it for a moment. That made sense. Damn. I scrubbed at my face and grimaced at how sweaty my palms were. “Okay, fine; I’m bait. I go knock on that door and then what? Sit him down for tea and cookies?”

“I’ll be right behind you, as close as I can be without him being able to sniff me out. All you need to do is get in that door and distract him—and then get the hell out of the way.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute! I didn’t come along just to do nothing! This is—”

He turned and fixed me with a hard stare. “Out of your league.”

“Maybe, but I—you said—” I spluttered.

“I said you needed to finish this and I meant it,” he snapped, words so hard they were almost a growl. He looked away and for a heartbeat all I had to see was the back of his head and its tousled hair.

When he looked back at me, my stomach clenched. The concern there took me out at the metaphorical knees. “Caitlin, you are not ready for this fight. I’m probably a fool for taking you along in the first place. I know how important seeing Argoth defeated is to you but, please, believe me: you’ll only be a hindrance if I get distracted worrying about your safety. I’ll stick to my word and let you have the killing blow if I can. But I also need you to hold true to yours. Promise me you’ll stay out of the way until Argoth is down.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a command. My upper lip twitched, wanting to snarl but he was right. Again. I nodded. “Okay. Deal.”

He reached for the door handle, then froze. “One last thing.”

I already had my door open, one foot on the pavement. “And from your tone I take it it’s not something I’m going to like.”

“Probably not.” He smirked that smug, infuriating, endearing little smirk of his but it didn’t reach his eyes. He removed the keys from the ignition and tossed them to me. I caught them with a minimal amount of fumbling. “If it looks like I’m going to lose, run. Don’t try to be a hero. Get the hell out of here, go back to Kaine, and tell him what happened.”

I had known all along that we were walking a thin line, flirting with death in trying to take down a troll on its home turf, but in that moment the scope of just how badly the night could end became crystal clear to me. All the anger, all the snide, stupid little things I had ever thought about him suddenly melted away. I wanted to curse myself for having been an even bigger fool than Gannon ever could be. A hundred thoughts zipped through my mind and I wanted to say them all, but it wasn’t the time or the place. We didn’t have the luxury of distractions, no matter the possible regrets, so instead I nodded. “I promise.”

I rounded the front of the car and froze, hands jammed in my pockets; eyes ahead. The street seemed darker than it had a moment before, every shadow cloaking evils beyond my worst nightmare—who, of course, lay just ahead. I was shaking and hated myself for it. I knew Gannon was fast. I had seen him move with breath-taking speed, yet that didn’t do shit for my nerves. I couldn’t stop trembling. Walking those last couple feet to that doorway became the hardest thing in the world. A hand pressed against the small of my back. It was impossible for me to feel its warmth through the layers of leather and cloth, but I swore I did. His voice was low, whisper close in my ear. “You’ve got this.”

I nodded and flashed him a tight smile. The stoic mask was back on his face, and it gave my confidence the tiny bolster it needed. I took that first step forward and refused to let myself stop. I kept my head high. Sweaty palms or no, I wasn’t going to let a rational little thing like fear stop me. I stopped myself from looking back over my shoulder as I approached those crumbling cement steps. Gannon had my back. I had to trust in that. All I had to do was find the opening; he would do the rest. I could do this. I
had
to do this. There was no room for failure.

The stairwell was dark and dank, far from the nearest street lamp. All sorts of muck lingered in the darkened corners, adding a cloyingly sweet note under the general stench of mold. Gross. I took the stairs slowly, careful to place each step so as not to slip or dislodge any of the crumbling mortar, ears straining to hear the slightest sound coming from within the apartment. There was no window, no porch light—just darkness and a silence that seemed eerie to a city-dweller like me.

I had no clue what awaited us inside, or if Goliath was even still there. I hated going in to something as dangerous as this blind. I stood in front of that door—so damn normal looking, that door—and closed my eyes, letting everything else fall away. You can do this, I reminded myself. This was what I had been waiting for; the moment I had been chasing for the better part of a year. It was time for ballsy, brash Hunter Caitlin to earn her keep.

My knock sounded like a gong breaking the silence.

For a moment I stood there, barely breathing, and wondered if we had missed our shot. I couldn’t hear any movement from within. I bit my lip and raised my hand to knock again, just as the door swung open. Goliath stood before me in all his stooped, seven foot glory; still big, still ugly, still—now that we were up close and I was downwind—stinking worse than all the garbage lining his vestibule. Beneath his furrowed Herman Munster brow, those piggy little eyes went wide, mastif jaw slack in confusion to see my standing on the other side of the door.

Go time.

I put on my best shit-eating grin and said brightly, “Hello, Ugly.”

I shouldered past him and strode into the apartment. It was a rundown pigsty, sparsely furnished with dilapidated dumpster dive finds and chock full of empty take-out containers as far as the eye could see. Three steps in I was bum-rushed by a dank, rotten stench that made it hard to suppress a gag. Oh Lordy, I was going to use every bit that single year of high school drama club had taught me if I was going to keep this act up. I cased the joint in a heartbeat: two doorways out, one behind me (most likely the kitchen, given the wafting odor) and another to the right, leading to a hallway; a dim light coming from beyond the open door of a side bedroom. No sounds of movement. It was unlikely anyone else was home.

Good.

I turned to face him. In the thirty seconds it had taken for me to get my bearings, he hadn’t moved except to turn around and gape at me like a confused dog. My eyes flicked to his left, around one massive, muscled arm. Dumbshit had left the door open behind him. Good—I had been counting on that. Now, I just had to keep his attention. “Nice place you’ve got here. Smells a bit like ass and feet, but the ambiance is very you. What would you call this decor? Crack house chic?”

That seemed to penetrate his stupor. Goliath narrowed his eyes and snarled, revealing those huge, yellowed canines as he took a step toward me. I backed up a step, careful to shuffle so as not to slip on any of the trash littering the floor, and told myself to get ready to draw. Those meaty paws rose in the air and stretched out toward me, and the sight of them triggered all types of remembered panic. In that second I forgot every goddamned thing I had learned in practice; not a single form or move could get past the jibbering fear of those hands coming at me, threatening to hoist me up into the air like a sack of potatoes again. Fuck, this had been a stupid idea.

“Argoth.” Gannon stood in the doorway; my avenging angel, heavenly sword drawn.

The troll turned. Seeing Gannon standing there, his shoulders rose, shaggy head lowering like a bull ready to charge. A rumble resounded deep in his chest. The gladiators stared one another down, each waiting for the other to make the first move. I was all but forgotten.

With Goliath’s eyes off me, I was able to think coherent thoughts again. The first of which was, right—time for me to get out of the way before all hell broke loose. I didn’t like the odds of getting caught in another room, should the worst happen, so I darted to the right, keeping an open path between myself and the door, and did so not a moment too soon. They broke the stalemate at the same moment, rushing toward one another to meet with a resounding crash in the center of the room. I cringed at the heavy thud of their impact. How Gannon could withstand running into that brick shithouse was beyond me; that alone would have broken half the bones in my body.

They bounced apart but sprung immediately back in to action, neither missing a beat. The fight was on—and it was breath-taking. My eyes darted to and fro, trying—and failing—to track Gannon’s movements. It was like trying to watch the wind.

In the training ring, Gannon had moved like a panther; a predatory animal, sleek and primal. Now, he moved like a force of nature. He ducked and weaved around the monster’s wild swings, seeming to anticipate the troll’s every move. His blade whistled through the air and, again and again, I heard Goliath snarl as it broke his leathery hide. Gannon had been right—trolls were ungodly strong, but they were also slow. In close quarters, unable to get a good, running charge, the beast was at a serious disadvantage.

My adrenaline was pumping. I bounced on the balls of my feet, hands clenching and unclenching. The thrill was sizzling in my blood and I ached to leap into the fray, but knew better. I wouldn’t break my promise. I watched Goliath lunge, hugely muscled arms scissoring close to Gannon’s neck just as he spun away. I couldn’t kid myself: what he made look easy was far beyond my reach. The chaos around me seemed to move at hyper-speed; beautiful and unreal.

Watching Gannon fight for real was both an epiphany and a god damn sock to the gut. I knew only then just how far he had been scaling back in the ring with me. For months I had secretly marveled over his speed, his strength, his grace—but nothing he had shown me came anywhere close to the truth of what he was capable of. Even when we hunted, the kills has come easy.

Now I realized that he had made sure of it. Those fae we had faced had been training wheels; a chance for me to get my sea legs, so to speak. Not a single one of them would have posed the smallest challenge to him, had he gone against them alone. I realized why he had been so furious with me the night we hunted the black dog. I had never—not once—been in danger on a hunt with him at my side. Not until I had put myself there.

A deafening roar broke my reverie. Goliath was not enjoying the fight nearly as much as I was from the sidelines. He was bleeding from half a dozen shallow wounds that would have felled a lesser creature, but he hadn’t slowed one bit. A nearby lamp became a bludgeon in one of his meaty hands. He swung hard at Gannon, glass shattering as it met metal. Gannon jumped back, arm up to block against the broken shards as they flew through the air. Goliath threw the broken weapon aside, shattering plaster where it met with one water-stained wall, and lunged forward again, forcing Gannon back another foot.