Kiss of Steel (48 page)

Movement ahead caught his eye. A swirl of a black cloak stirring the fog. Will leaped forward and shoved Blade flat, covering him with his body.

“Ooof,” Blade wheezed. He lifted his head. “Thanks, but I’ve already got a wife—”

“Shut up.” Will pressed his hand between the other man’s shoulder blades, coming to a crouch. His gaze raked the fog. There. A metallic chink. Voices in the shadows.

From Blade’s stillness, he’d heard them too.

“Stay here,” Will breathed close to his ear. “Keep your bloody head down, and I’ll check it out.”

“Do I look like a need a friggin’ nursemaid?”

Will shot him a look. Three years ago, no. Blade had been the most dangerous thing to stalk the night. But his hair and skin color weren’t the only changes in him, since he’d started drinking Honoria’s blood.

“You go left,” Will finally murmured. Short of tying Blade to the chimney with his belt, there wasn’t much chance of him staying here.

Both of them faded into the fog. The voices ahead were getting farther away. Will moved like a wraith through the night, his dark wool coat rippling around his hips. Beneath it he wore a heavy leather waistcoat that had been modified with steel inserts, as well as steel caps over his knees. You couldn’t be too careful in a world where a man’s main weapon might be a shiv or a heavy wrench. His loupe virus could heal almost anything, but being knifed still hurt.

Metal clanged and a pair of curses littered the air. Then silence, as though both people froze to see if they’d been heard. Will slowed, creeping across the tiles with one foot placed carefully in front of the other. He knelt low, easing on hands and feet around the edge of a chimney. There was no sign of Blade, but then Blade was even better at this sort of thing than he was.

“You drop that again, and Mercury’ll have your head,” someone snapped.

Two figures. Both dressed in black and moving with a footpad’s efficiency. The shorter one picked up something heavy. A hollow metal tube, like the flame-throwers the spitfires used.

“Mercury ain’t here, is he?” asked the shorter man, hefting the flame-thrower over his shoulder. “And when he hears how well we done, then he’ll be burying us in ale and whores.”

“That’s if the Echelon don’t rip your guts out first,” Blade said pleasantly, materializing out of nowhere.

Shit
.

Will leaped forward, even as the two men turned on his master. Despite their bickering, they moved with military efficiency. The shorter one snapped the flame-thrower up, just as the other drew his blade. The tube coughed, then bright orange flame spewed through the fog, highlighting the roof and everyone on it.

Blade spun low, sweeping the knife-wielder’s feet out from under him. Will grabbed the barrel of the flame-thrower and elbowed the man in the face. There was a satisfying crunch, then his mind registered just how hot the tube was. He dropped it, and it rolled toward the edge of the roof, catching in the gutter.

“Just the two of you boys?” Blade taunted, not even bothering to draw a knife. He bent backward, avoiding the swipe of the knife with a gravity-defying movement before snapping upright.

The man he was facing stiffened. “Frigging bleeders!” He reached into his pocket to press something, and agony screamed through Will’s head.

The sound was like an icepick to the brain, wiping out all sense of time and place and even connection to his body. He hit the tiles, scrabbling blindly for purchase as he started to slide.

Something hit him hard under the chin, snapping his head back with resounding force. Words sounded, distorting the high-pitched scream, but he couldn’t make any of them out. Then movement blurred at the edge of his vision. Another smashing blow against his cheekbone. Blood splashed over his face, wet and hot.

Will clapped his hands over his ears, collapsing back on the tiles. That sound! Like razors in his head.

In...his pocket. Something in the man’s pocket. A device of sorts, making the noise.

Grinding his teeth together, he saw the shorter man lifting the flame-thrower high. No time to think.
He kicked out, aiming for the man’s knee.

A heavy weight landed on him, and they both grunted. The throbbing squeal of noise pounded in time to his heartbeat. Will clawed to his feet and staggered forward, searching for Blade.

There. On the roof. The other man knelt over him, and Will realized he had a knife buried deep in Blade’s chest. Trying to cut out his heart.

“No!” He roared, seeing red.

Anger rushed over him, swallowing him whole and burning him in its wake. He grabbed the man by the collar and flung him away. Blade gasped, clapping a hand to the knife hilt, but his reactions were still slow, disorientated.

The noise.

Will slammed the man down and yanked at his pocket. A small, vibrating device came free. He crushed it in his fist, and the world fell silent.

Will staggered, throwing aside the crushed pieces. His ears were still ringing, but at least he could think. Breathe. Move.

The scent of hot, coppery blood washed over him.

“Blade,” he growled, leaping over the gasping man on the roof and sliding to his knees beside his master.

Blade lifted his head, then collapsed back down. “Bloody... Get it out... ’s silver.” He lifted his fingers and flinched as they brushed against the knife hilt.

“Hold still,” Will snapped. A cold ring of sweat beaded on his forehead. The knife was buried to the hilt. He had no idea of the damage it had done or what would happen if he removed it.

Behind him, the two men helped each other to their feet. Will spared them a glance, but they were trying to get away, now that the advantage had shifted once more to him and Blade.

“Gutted by a human.” Blade laughed incredulously. “Always thought...it’d be one of the Echelon. In the end.”

“Stop your whinin’.” Will wrenched his shirt off, a frisson of icy cold trailing down his spine. Blue bloods were notoriously difficult to kill. That was one reason the French revolution had guillotined their aristocrats. The only other way to stop them was to cut out their heart or cause severe damage to it. He swallowed hard and shoved his shirt around the wound to stop the bleeding. “Nothin’ more’n a scratch. We’ll have you hale in no time.”

Blade met his gaze. His fingers were surprisingly strong when they closed around Will’s. “Swear you’ll look after ’er,” he snarled. “If... If I don’t...”

Will dropped his gaze. “Aye. You know I’ll do it.” He owed Blade his life, no matter what he personally thought of Honoria. “Hold still. You need blood.”

Darkness slithered through Blade’s pale eyes. His head rolled to the side. “Feels... numb...” he murmured.

Panic speared through his gut. “Don’t you dare!” Ripping at the heavy hunting knife he carried, he cradled his friend’s head in his hands. “Here. Have me blood. It’ll help.”

Short work to slash the vein in his wrist open. He cupped the back of his head and held Blade’s mouth to his wrist.

A moment of hesitation that never used to be there. He knew what Blade was thinking. He’d stopped taking directly from any of his thrall’s veins when Honoria came into his life. Now he drank his blood either from her or cold, out of the icebox.

“Don’t be a fool. She won’t mind,” Will snarled.

That hint of darkness swept through Blade’s irises again. Will’s chest caught. Not in fear. Gods, not that. Anticipation swept through his veins, lighting them on fire. It’d been a long time since he’d been one of Blade’s thralls. He’d not realized how much he missed it.

As Blade’s mouth closed over his wrist, his tongue sliding over the ragged wound, Will collapsed forward onto his other hand. A gasp tore from his lips. Feeling flooded through him that he hadn’t felt in years. It had confused him when Blade first took him as a thrall, but it was nothing more than his body’s reaction to the chemicals in his master’s saliva.

But the moment of closeness...

This was all he’d ever have of that.

He ground his teeth and tried to deny the pull. Twice as harsh after three years of abstinence. And just as confusing.

He didn’t feel this way with females.

Or he never had. Until Lena walked into his life.

And I’m
not
thinkin’ of her
. Will bit his lip, trying to ignore the flush of pleasure that thought brought. Dark hair, dark eyes, that flirtatious little smile that drove him insane... His groin tightened and he growled, head bowed as the sensation against his wrist increased.

It was over all too quickly. Will collapsed onto his backside, clutching his wrist against his chest. The skin throbbed, still feeling the imprint of Blade’s mouth. Heat flushed through the ragged edges of the knife cut, his loupe virus rapidly healing the wound. It would be gone by the end of the hour, barely a pink pucker against his swarthy skin.

Blade gasped, drawing his feet up. His eyes blazed with black fire, and he grabbed the handle of the hilt and ground his teeth together. Crying out, he drew it out of his chest and collapsed back on the roof, panting for breath.

The wound was still bleeding, but sluggishly now. With his blood rushing through Blade’s system, there was a strong chance he’d pull through. Verwulfen blood was thrice as potent as a human’s.

“Honoria’ll... kill me,” Blade gasped.

That’s if he survived
. Will took one look at the ashen color of his face and looked away swiftly. Damage to the heart was always dangerous. He had to get him back to the Warren, where Honoria, with her medical background, might be able to help.

Rigging up a makeshift bandage, he held his coat in place to suppress the bleeding, then tied off the ends of his shirt. “There. That’ll hold until we get you home.” Sliding his arm under Blade’s shoulder, he helped him to sit.

Blade gasped, clutching at his chest. The sight tore another shaft of ice through Will’s gut. Followed by a hot stab of anger. Three years ago, Blade would’ve laughed this off. He was no longer standing on the edge of the Fade— when the craving virus finally overtook a blue blood and he turned into something else, something worse—but for a moment, Will didn’t know if that was any better.

“Can you stand?”

Blade struggled to his feet, his eyes glassy with pain.

“You have to hold on,” Will warned, bending and easing the other man over his shoulder. “I’m goin’ to get you home. To Honoria. She’ll know what to do. Just you hold on.”

***

Honoria eased the blankets higher, then turned the knob on the gas-lamp lower. Muted light cast a variety of shadows across the room as Blade slept. Will paced in front of the fire, his wrist tingling as the skin healed.

Honoria washed her hands, moving away from the bed. Her face was composed, but deep shadows lingered in the hollows beneath her reddened eyes. As she turned, the light caught her profile, and for a moment Will stopped breathing, seeing another’s face in the shadows. Then she looked up, arching a brow at him and the image was gone. She shared the same dark eyes and rich mahogany hair as her sister, but Lena’s face was prettier and she was a good inch or two shorter than Honoria.

Just the ghost of her image lingered, haunting him.

A quick jerk of the head meant Honoria wanted to talk to him. Outside.

Shooting Blade one last look, he strode to the door. An old shirt of Blade’s hung loosely over his chest. He couldn’t quite button it, and the sleeves stretched taut over his arms. Foolishness. But he wasn’t knocking on Rip’s door—Blade’s other lieutenant—and asking for a shirt that might have a better chance in fitting him.

Honoria eased the door closed. “I think he’ll be fine. The bleeding’s stopped, and I’ll get some more blood into him. Thank you for bringing him home to me.”

Will nodded. He never had much to say to her. They’d tried, after she first married Blade, to find some common ground between them. But he knew what she thought of him—had overheard it in quite explicit detail the night before he moved out of the Warren.

Dangerous.

Unpredictable.

A threat to her sister.

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if she hadn’t been half right.

Her gaze dropped to his wrist. “Do you need tending—?”

“It’ll heal.”

“Something to eat then? There’s stew... In the kitchen. I’ll just—”

“Ain’t hungry.” He nodded his leave of her, then turned on his heel. The back of his neck was itching.

“Will. Please.”

He stopped moving and glanced back over his shoulder.

“You know you can come home now. It breaks his heart that you’re living on your own. And you know... She’s not here anymore either.”

Honoria would never understand. He shook his head. “She weren’t the reason I left,” he growled.
Not the only one anyway
.

Then he turned and stalked out into the darkness, feeling her eyes on his back the entire way.

***

No point going home.