rogue shifter 07 - cut off (10 page)

As we stalked each other, daggers held ready and orange gazes locked, Isaiah smiled. Man he could be creepy sometimes. This wasn't a
good job, nephew, you learn quickly
, kind of smile. This one was a
come closer little rabbit and I'll suck out your innards and eat the rest of you for dessert
smile. I was gonna practice that one in the mirror later.

And that was the point, right? I'd be fighting demon enemies who'd stare at me the same creepy way. Some wouldn't even look remotely human. Ugh. Hope I didn't have to fight one of those green goop guys.

Isaiah coughed to get my attention. Time to focus.

I faked left, moved right, flipped the blade into my left hand and got in a shallow slash across his bare chest. He grinned at me as the small wound immediately healed, leaving no scar. "Good one. But don't start in with the victory dance just yet."

I scowled, then threw him magically against the same wall he'd slammed me into earlier.

"Not playing anymore?" Isaiah asked with a smirk, wiping dust from the cracked wall out of his hair. "About time."

We began a mutually violent volley of thrusts and swipes with the blade, punches with our free hands and kicks to our already abused bodies. The thing was, he was holding back. Big time. I'd worked out with Sasha, Kyle enough to know when they were pulling hits. I wasn't complaining. Isaiah could crack me in half with one good punch.

Not that I was a total loser when it came to fighting with my blade. Because Kennet had taught me the basic moves as a child, my form and balance in a knife fight were good, but Isaiah's methods made the battle real. Never flashy, his moves were subtle and deadly. This was street fighting. Dirty and sneaky. I caught on fast, searing each new move into my memory circuits.

He held up a hand. "Stop."

"Had enough?" I croaked, panting so hard my lungs felt like they were seizing up. I groaned when I straightened, every muscle screaming. If I wasn't able to heal myself I'd be walking around with bruises and cuts for weeks, and here it was only the first day.

Isaiah wasn't even breathing hard. I caught myself before I rolled my eyes, instead grunting in frustration as I pushed my sweaty hair out of my face.

"Drink." He pointed to the bench where my water flask sat untouched, then took a sip of his as we surveyed each other's injuries. Isaiah was bruised and cut in a few places, but my slimmer, shirtless body looked way worse. As my heartbeat returned to normal, I reached for my healer and connected without a hitch, saying a silent prayer of thanks to the shifter spirits or whoever decided I'd be able to heal myself here in the DR. It would sure make spending time with Isaiah a lot easier.

"Clean your weapon and lock it in the cabinet. We're taking a break."

Following orders, I wiped my dagger with a damp cloth, then buffed it with a dry one. Before I locked it away I spent a few seconds checking out the etchings on the hilt and blade that took on the gold, green and orange shades of my aura. I never got tired of watching the three colors snaking around each other, but never quite touching. Sorta like how the different races of supes usually avoided contact.

My family were the opposite. Living in my house was like camping out in the main hall of the United Nations, the difference being everyone there could kick the butts of every human dictator, general or king without even lifting a finger. A claw might be involved, but probably not a finger. It was a good thing most humans had no clue who they shared the planet with. They wouldn't take it well.

Still in my hand, the arcane dagger buzzed slightly as my body finished healing. It was one of three given to the seelie fae, while Isaiah's dagger was one of three given to demonkind. According to him all were crafted by the same smith, including a set of three for the unseelie clans. During an actual battle, the blades would've sharpened into shark's teeth, but today, understanding that only minor injuries were allowed during our practice session, they'd dulled themselves.

Saying that my arcane dagger "understood" was totally weird, but somehow it had the ability to connected to my mind and my magic as if it was captain to my general, a soldier who'd fought beside me hundreds of times and could read my wishes before I spoke them out loud. My birth father had given me this incredible gift when I was only five. Learning how to use it to the best of my abilities had always been a top priority.

"Tomorrow, you'll fight me in my warrior form." Isaiah used his stuck-up voice, probably because during today's practice I'd spent more time on the floor looking up at him than I had facing off against him. He was a cool trainer, and I liked hanging with him, even though I was sure that one day his head was gonna swell so much it exploded.

Remembering what he'd announced, I looked up. "This room has low ceilings. Your warrior form won't fit." In a flash, the ceiling height doubled, along with the size of his head. Again. I did a half eye-roll, but caught it before he saw me. "Why don't you leave it like this all the time?"

'"I try never to waste energy. You never know when you might need it."

"Uh...I think I remember a story mom told about you making her wander around your fifty room house and memorize where everything was, when really you hardly ever use more than a dozen rooms."

He grinned, showing the tips of his fangs. "I couldn't resist. She's such fun to tease." He scowled suddenly. "And also a royal pain in my ass."

"Tell me about it." My mom could make the mountains roll their eyes.

His loud laugh startled me. "You're just like her."

"What? I am not." I slammed the cabinet door, locked it and faced him. "I'm nothing like Mom."

"Really? You question everything, you test the limits of my patience several times a day, your stubborn streak is wider than the Milky Way, and your temper is legendary." I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a finger in warning. I snapped it shut. "On the flip side, you learn quickly, work hard, show great compassion for others and you can turn that anger into a formidable weapon. These are also Jackie's traits."

I sat on the floor mat and stretched my muscles out the way Kyle had taught me, digesting what Isaiah had said. "That's just wrong."

"What?"

"A guy should be like his dad, not his mom."

"I would have ended you years ago if your birth father's DNA was what drove your personality."

I snapped my head up. He wasn't smiling at all. My stomach clenched for a second as I remembered the training Kennet had insisted on. "Very funny." I grinned, then changed the subject. "Do you think I'm anything like Garrett? We're not blood related, but maybe there's something similar. Somewhere." I was hopeful. Dad and I agreed on just about every subject, except maybe when he felt I'd crossed the line with Mom by disrespecting her.

"Love and respect hold our family together,"
he'd say when he sat me down to ream me out over my latest shouting match with Mom.
"It takes hard work, but it's worth it."

I couldn't really argue the point, because Garrett lived that life, treating mom like his personal angel and me like his true son. All the supes he worked with respected him and listened to his advice. I wanted to be more like him, only—it was hard.

Isaiah interrupted my thoughts. "The major difference between you and your mom is that you usually take the time to plan things out instead of jumping in head first. She reacts quickly, then wheels and deals her way out of the resulting fiasco so it doesn't turn into a full blown crisis. Garrett is a strategist like you. It's obvious you learned that from him."

"Yeah, when I have a problem, he sits me down and we talk about different ways to approach it. It's kinda cool. Oh, and he taught me to play the guitar. I like music." Thinking about the fun we'd had playing and singing together helped keep thoughts of Fionna and what she was doing to Dad in the background. It didn't do me any good to sit around and worry. Training was a much better way to spend my time and Garrett would be the first one to say so.

Isaiah laughed. "I doubt that Kennet is interested in the arts. I seem to recall that when you were small you wanted to be a rock star."

"And a knight. Or Robin Hood." I smiled and took another swig of water. "How about you? Were you ever a little kid with dreams?"

He sighed. "Yes. I had dreams, but mostly I was busy trying to stay under Mother's radar. I've survived quite well, overall. Certainly better than my other siblings." He stood before the mirror, having magically changed his clothes and looking like he'd already showered. I was still all sweaty from my workout.

I wiped my face and neck with a towel. "Your mom sounds like a wolf spider, huh?" I asked.

"Wolf spider?"

"Sometimes they eat their young."

He laughed. "Not quite, but close. I believe she gave one of my sisters to the Goblin King. He enjoys a roast demon on occasion."

My chin dropped. He had to be kidding, right?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I took Fionna by the shoulders and shook her, an act I would never have considered only a few months before. Several salient facts were glaring her in the face, yet she refused to acknowledge them. "What were you thinking?" I lashed out.

Her eyes flared with gold, a sign that would send most court fae dissolving into the lines as quickly as possible. "Take your hands off of me, or I will serve half of you to Throat and the other half to Belly."

My fury made me foolish. "I assume you are referring to your pet slaugh? Can you not pronounce their unseelie names, sister?"

My rebuke woke her up, but not in the way I had hoped. A lamp whizzed past my head, crashing against the far wall. Annoyed at my good luck, she waved her hand. I crumpled to the floor by her feet, my knees jarred by the unexpected journey. As I winced from the intense pain, she leaned closer and spoke, her voice a shard of ice, "I will not speak in the unseelie tongue. It is abhorrent to me."

I rubbed my face in frustration and remained kneeling, That lamp had missed my head by mere inches. Even with full power, a concussion took over a day to heal, which meant Fionna would be left on her own to wreak havoc while I was out of commission. I shuddered to think of her ruling in her present state, unchecked.

As I stood, the movements still painful, I continued in my attempt to make her see reason. "Perhaps you should not have taken the unseelie's power and called yourself their ruler. You have made an entire realm your enemy, Fionna." I moved a step closer, ignoring her glare. "It's not too late. You can restore their power with a simple ritual and then work to rebuild the relationship. I advise you strongly to move in that direction. We do not want the unseelie to side with Naberia."

"Hmmph. My people and I are more powerful than all the unseelie combined."

She sounded more and more like her irrational mother as each day passed. "It's possible that the Goblin King, Luryn of the Drow Elves, and several other unseelie royals are most likely drawing up war plans as we speak. News of the court's weakness could have been discovered."

With a wave of her hand, Fionna stopped time, trying to impress me the way a child would a younger sibling. "See? I can stop them in their tracks. There is nothing to fear."

I'd had enough. "How can you call yourself the daughter of Finvarra? Wasting power

That shocked her speechless. Our father had been a master strategist, bringing down enemies not only with his skill on the field but also his ability to strike with speed and stealth. A diplomat as well, the former king was never one to waste a single seelie life if another avenue presented itself.

Her voice rose in pitch. "I am the daughter of Finvarra and Queen Aine, and as such am worthy to rule." Her face turned harsh, her features now as ugly as her soul. "Speak to me in that manner again and I will torture you for years, yet it will only be as a heartbeat in real time."

"I advise you not to play rough with me. I have my own powers."

"You are arrogant as always, little brother. Would you care to test out your mental strength? It will be the last time you are able to use your mind."

I huffed in exasperation, then turned away to pour myself some wine. She laughed, thinking she'd won that round. Unlike Caelen, Fionna was a simple soul in many ways, anxious for flattery and easy to fool. As I'd distracted her with my anger, I'd tested her shields. They were weak, and because she felt herself to be invulnerable, she rarely used her magic to strengthen them.

She sprawled in a large chair, the game no longer fun. "Why were you angry?" she asked.

"You sent a note to Caelen saying we would torture Garrett."

"Yes."

"It was too early. They'll be rallying their forces now."

"They have few forces to rally. Will Caelen risk his precious sons' lives? I think not. Perhaps the sisters will come, but that is of no consequence." She laughed and took a sip of wine, obviously never having witnessed Keara or Brina's abilities on the field. I had watched them training on many occasions and could say with certainty there were none at court who could match them with a sword, especially now that Fionna had weakened us. Only Caelen and Aedus were more adept, and they fought on the same side.

Fionna continued, "Jacqueline has no power here, yet the lovesick fool will still risk her life and come before me to beg for her mate's return."

I closed my eyes, remembering the sweet scent of wildflowers. "She is not his mate. I have plans for Jacqueline." My voice had automatically softened.

"Oh?" Fionna's interest was peaked. Like a child, it didn't take much to tantalize her.

"I intend to bind with her. You'll send the vampire back, but Charles and Jacqueline will stay."

Fionna scowled. "She is not worthy, Kennet. Keep her as your consort if you must, but bind with a pure blood. She is tainted by her demon grandmother."

"She is fertile."

"Yes, but there are fae who are also fertile. Look at Aedus."

"Aedus became fertile after she healed him."

"You believe she worked some kind of magic?"