Charity Received (10 page)

After gently setting the phone back into its cradle, Hope ran a finger over the machine, stopping when it hovered over a button. “When I was checking my messages just a little bit ago, I realized there was one for me that had already been listened to…though not by me.” She glanced back at him as she pressed the button.

After fast-forwarding through several, a voice came through the machine—his voice.

“Doll, it’s your mate. I was going to start that new piece of armor tonight and thought
you might want to help. Call me. And Charity, hello. Even if you don’t want to talk to
me.”

With Hope watching him expectantly, Kash just shook his head. It was a message he’d left days ago, before he’d ever laid eyes on Charity. “Yes, it’s me. And yes, I left that message. So what? What does it have to do with anything?” he demanded, growing more annoyed as Hope’s reaction changed, her mouth dropping open in surprise, making him feel like a fool.

“I never told Charity you were my mate. While I wouldn’t be surprised if it got back to her—she works with Calie, after all, and that vampire loves to gossip—it was a joke just between you and me. But what if that’s why she tried to attack me? Why she ran away? What if she thinks it’s true?”

Rubbing a hand wearily over the back of his neck, his fingers brushing over the mark Charity had left, Kash sighed deeply. Christ, could this get any more fucked-up? “So I did this. It’s my fault.”

“I didn’t say that, Kash. You couldn’t have known,” Hope said softly, reaching out but stopping just short of touching him. “But this you can fix. When you find Charity, you can tell her the truth—she is your mate, and you can’t live without her.”

Turning away, Kash hung his head. It seemed impossible to believe. How could Charity doubt him after they’d made love? But it was better than what he’d been going on before—nothing.

Something about the sadness lingering in Hope’s gaze nudged at his subconscious, but he pushed it aside. It was so unlike him, but Kash couldn’t make himself care.

He was fixated on finding his mate, almost to the point that it had become a matter of life or death. His life or Charity’s, he wasn’t sure. But the compulsion was taking over, burning through him urgently.

He tossed her room—it was the only way his search could be described—and found only two things of interest: a man’s ring and a photograph. The ring was quite old and of Celtic origin. It was gold with intricate knot work on the band and a large bloodstone set in the middle. The black-and-white photo was of a family—mother, father, and two children. Their manner of dress indicated it was taken sometime around 1900. Maybe ancestors. Kash didn’t know the significance of either object, but they had been stored inside a small velvet pouch and placed under several layers of clothing in a drawer.

After pulling a duffel bag from her closet, he began stuffing it full with her clothes, taking special interest in her underwear drawer. The tiny pastel silk thongs she apparently liked to wear punched his gut with a surge of lust. The memory of making love with Charity burned in his mind. Once he found her, he didn’t think he’d allow her to leave their bedroom for days.

Their
bedroom. Kash’s heart fluttered at the thought. It sounded good in his mind.

“What are you doing?”

Kash met Hope’s exasperated expression. He had been holding a pair of Charity’s panties to his nose, and he felt his face grow pink.

“God, I hope those are clean. Otherwise that just speaks of issues I don’t even want to know about.”

Kash rolled his eyes. Only Hope. He stuffed the panties into the bag. “Charity will need something to wear when she comes home. And since I will not be letting her leave me again, I figured I would just save time. It will make her more comfortable if her things are in our bedroom.” Christ, it sounded even better rolling from his tongue.

“You understand Charity is going to kill you for trashing her room, right?”

Kash grinned. It sounded wonderful. All of it. The good and the bad. The fighting and the loving. Preferably with Charity naked and wet on the middle of their bed, spread out before him like a Thanksgiving buffet.

“From what I’ve heard, makeup sex is the best,” he said, feeling his cock stiffen at the vision of her bound to his headboard. And he wasn’t even into kink.

Hope turned from him with a delicate little snort. “Yeah. Whatever. Are all you guys so damn whipped when you mate? It’s pathetic, Kash. It really is.”

He just continued to grin like a fool. He
was
pathetic. But here, amid Charity’s possessions, he felt more like himself. He wasn’t completely free from the tumbling emotions that had only been growing, but the anger had receded and the anxiety had diminished.

“And by the way, she keeps something hidden under her bed. I caught her once sliding it under there. It’s in a wooden case.” Hope glanced over her shoulder one last time before leaving Kash alone with his mate’s things.

He fell to his knees and immediately searched under the bed until his hands connected with something hard. It was a dark wooden box about fifty inches long, two feet wide, and a foot deep. Kash ran a hand over the top, feeling a strange vibration from whatever rested within. Pulling away, he stared at it, wondering just what Charity kept inside it. It had an otherworldly feel to it.

Deciding nothing ventured, nothing gained, he traced the strange lettering on top, knowing he’d seen it before. But he couldn’t recall where or when. Finding no latch to open the box, Kash sat back on his heels. His eyes were drawn back to the lettering. And it came to him.

It was Gaelic.
Trí Dé Dána
. The three gods of craftsmanship. What was the significance of those words? He tried to recall the names, but he hadn’t thought of the Tuatha Dé Danann in centuries. The fae. He really disliked the uppity bastards.

They thought themselves better than the Grigori. Hell, they thought themselves better than everyone except those still with grace.

But more important, what was Charity doing with something fae in origin? And how could he get the damn thing open?

He returned to the words engraved in the top. Trí Dé Dána. Who were the three gods? Kash racked his brain, trying to remember.

“Goibniu. That was one. And Creidhne. Now what was the name of that little bastard? Luchta. That’s it.” With a sense of triumph, all three names popped out of his mouth. And with a soft snick, the box opened.

“Shit.” Kash realized what he was staring at. It was a sword, but no ordinary sword.

It was
Bladhm Claíomh de Fírinne
—Flame of Truth. A sword that, in one swoop, could kill an archdemon—or a Grigori. A piece of steel embedded with the eternal flame given by the angel Ariel to Eochaid Ollathair just before he had led the Tuatha Dé Danann belowground. Then it had disappeared, lost in time. Did Charity even know what she had? Jesus, when he got his hands on his mate, he was going to blister her hide. Just one knick from the blade could have killed her.

Kash slammed the lid shut. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to allow this to remain. If it got into the wrong hands… He shuddered at the thought. Raym would be the least of their worries.

* * *

Sitting through the evening meeting, Faith listened to the brothers argue about the feasibility of catching the wolf Zeke and Arak had encountered. Glancing at her watch, she decided they were getting nowhere. If this meeting didn’t end soon, she’d have no chance of talking to Kash before he disappeared into the surrounding woods. So in a fit of desperation, she blurted out, “What about tranquilizer guns?”

All bickering ceased, and a look of interest passed over Zeke’s face.

“Can you get your hands on those? Enough for each team patrolling?”

Faith chewed on her bottom lip as she contemplated Zeke’s question. She had no idea where to get one. Were they even legal? She didn’t think so. But she’d opened her big mouth. So if she needed something illegal, who would she go to?

“Prue. She has more contacts than an international spy. She’ll know where to get them.”

Faith sat back, a sense of satisfaction settling over her. It would solve their problems. But what to do with the animal after it was incapacitated, that was the question. They needed Charity.

“What about the drugs needed? And how much? We don’t want to accidentally kill the wolf.”

Faith shrugged at Arak’s inquiry. As the healer of the group, of course he would be more concerned about the wolf’s well-being. Faith was more worried about a pissed-off wolf that had just been shot coming at her.

“Charity is our resident expert,” she replied. “I would suggest contacting the O’Malley pack. If this wolf is theirs, they are looking for him. And I’m sure they don’t want him hurt. They’ve already lost two young males. I would think they’d appreciate the help.”

Zeke’s derisive snort had Faith raising a brow in question.

“You didn’t see the way that O’Malley asshole treated Charity. He didn’t want her help then; I’m not much inclined to offer it now.”

“Good thing you aren’t in charge,” Remy stated from his chair by the window.

Zeke, clearly disgruntled, frowned at their leader. “Remy, you weren’t there. You didn’t hear the bastard threaten Charity. I don’t trust him.”

“And you don’t have to. But just for argument’s sake, what do you plan to do with this wolf once you capture it? How will you communicate with it?”

“He can’t stay a wolf forever,” Zeke countered.

“And if whatever is controlling him keeps him from returning to human form?

Without Charity, we need someone who can talk to him.” Zeke started to protest, but Remy cut him off. “We do not know when Charity will return, if ever.” Faith looked at him sharply, and his voice went soft. Charity not returning was unacceptable. “We need assistance, and the werewolves are the only ones able to help us at the moment.”

“Then maybe more of us should be out looking for Charity than just Kash,” Zeke snarled. Obviously the idea of Charity not returning was unacceptable to him as well.

Remy sighed in resignation. “If I thought it would help either of them, I would send you all after her.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Zeke barked as he rose to his feet. He ran a hand over his bald head and massaged the back of his neck.

Remy’s gaze traveled around the room, resting on each member for a moment. “Kash believes she is his mate, but he is not exactly himself right now.”

“Why wasn’t I informed of this?” Arak questioned, the hurt in his voice hard to miss.

“Remy, damn you, you know I’ve been worrying my ass off.”

Once again, Remy sighed, his hand wearily traveling down his face. “We are still not certain. Don’t you think I have also worried about Kash? I thought he was infected.

Damn it, I’m still not sure he isn’t. If Kash is infected, that means the rest of us could become so also.”

“Christ, this is insane,” Jet snapped. “You should have just let me end this that first night. Then we wouldn’t be worrying about Kash. Or the damn female.”

With a growl, Zeke spun on Jet and would likely have attacked if Faith had not spoken up. Even though Jet still made her skin crawl with his glares, her mouth got the better of her brain.

“And you really think that would have solved everything, do you? Just kill Charity, and Kash is as good as new? Well, I hate to break it to you, you dumb bastard, but it doesn’t work that way.”

Jet met Faith’s gaze, and she felt frozen on the spot. She had never met anyone who was so dead inside that when you looked into his or her eyes, you saw nothing. No emotion whatsoever. He emanated a coldness that threatened to wrap around her heart and squeeze all the love from her. Faith shivered and moved closer to Bale.

“And how
does
it work, then?”

“If they don’t complete the bonding, both will continue to deteriorate, and eventually Charity will die. Where will that leave Kash? You tell me, because I was under the impression it was a one-way ticket to Hell.”

Jet gave her a sardonic smile. “Obviously not. You sit in a room full of males who survived. You sit in the spot of a dead woman.”

Faith gasped. Jet’s words were like a knife in the chest. Bale’s first wife, the human Thea, was still a sore subject with her. That her mate had loved another was her greatest source of insecurity.

Bale’s growl was filled with rage. He blinked across the room and caged Jet in his chair, a beefy arm lodged against the other male’s throat. “I suggest you take care, Jetrel. I allow the snide remarks from Penny because I understand from where her source of hatred stems. But I will drop you where you stand the next time you insult my mate.” Bale studied his brother. “Have I made myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” Jet mumbled before Bale released him. Faith thought she saw something that looked suspiciously like regret flash in the other male’s eyes, but it passed so quickly, she knew she must have been imagining it. Jet had been nothing but hostile to her from the very beginning. And she didn’t expect that to ever change.

Bale returned to Faith’s side, pulled her into his arms, and kissed the top of her head. She let the warmth of his body soothe her, wrapping her in comfort.

“I think that is enough for tonight. Faith, you see about those guns. The rest of you have your assignments. And be careful.” Remy paused as he swept his gaze around the room. Jet was the first to rise to his feet, and Remy pinned him with a glare.

“You, remain behind. I’d like a word with you.”

Jet fell back into his chair with a provoking snort. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned that Remy was watching him with a look of barely contained rage. And Faith wasn’t about to stay for the fireworks. She was the first to reach the door and kept moving at a quick pace. She was in a hurry to see Kash, anyway.

* * *

Across the bailey, Kash was exiting the gatehouse, an oddly shaped wooden box under his arm and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He paused when he spotted her and appeared to visibly tense. Faith approached cautiously, not wanting to upset him or, if he really was connected to Charity, the shifter either.