Chevalier (Ondine Quartet #2.2) (4 page)

Ashen, inhuman eyes glittered from a pale, unlined face. Something disturbing touched his expression, like the extreme white decor of his apartment.

He'd torture you not because it satisfied base emotions or demonic urges. But because he thought he was infinitely superior, the pure white to everyone else's dirtier colors.

Death wrapped in a package of narcissistic rationale.

"Why should I trust you?" he asked.

"I have information."

The emptiness was long gone, replaced by the intense flow of adrenaline, the danger of this moment, and the sheer freedom as I balanced on the edge.

"There were rumors in Lyondale before everything went down. That the Warrior Prince has a weakness. The
sondaleur
."

He tilted his head, the gesture almost reptilian. "Explain."

"He has…feelings for her." Heart pumped faster and my mask hardened. "Considers himself her protector. Eliminating him will make it easier to get to the
sondaleur
."

Mark remained silent for a few moments. Then he walked over to a crabapple shrub and plucked a delicate flowering bloom.

"Even in the coldest weather, it strains to live," he murmured. "See?"

He extended his hand.

One moment I was reaching for the flower; the next, fingers were digging into my wrist, gripping with ruthless strength. The glint of a knife flashed, followed immediately by a sharp burn as it cut across my palm.

Bright crimson blood swelled, the color staining my skin.

Shit.

Cold, cold eyes narrowed on my Origin mark. "This is not possible."

Mouth worked before my brain. "Guess I'm just special."

He nodded at the others. Two pairs of steely hands trapped my arms and dragged me to the table. Every muscle strained but their grip was like a vise, restricting any movement.

They shoved me down into the chair. Blondie held down my shoulders while Slim crushed my left wrist against the table's wood surface. Pain ricocheted up my arm.

Barry stood in front of me, his mouth twisted, eyes filled with diabolic hate.

Mark's expression remained smooth and blank.

"Why don't we find out how special you are, Jack? We'll start by cutting your fingers off one at a time. You can show us how you regenerate."

SIX

The wind's lonely howl carried the faintly metallic flavor of jagged cityscape, icy frost, and impending storm.

"Let's start with the pinky, shall we?"

Holding my arm down with one hand, Slim pulled a switchblade from his jacket.

He smiled, taking his time as he opened it. Wanting me to notice every detail.

The dull blade that would inflict greater pain. The flecks of dried blood from previous victims. The sheer pleasure shining in his eyes.

And I realized I simply didn't give a shit.

If this was going to happen, it'd happen. Things were what they were. Questioning it was pointless.

Unflinching, I stared at him. "Do it."

Coldness spread in my chest, the chill settling deep in my bones.

"What are you waiting for?" My voice gained a savage intensity. "Do it!"

I dare you.

A sharp clatter cut through the night. Four heads jerked toward the southwest.

That was all I needed.

Ankles kicked, shoving the chair back against Blondie. He staggered, giving me room to slam my foot into Slim's stomach and free my hand.

Meaty fist flew toward my face and I dodged. Commotion erupted behind me but I knew she could handle it.

Hand jammed into Blondie's throat. He jerked back and I wrapped both hands around his exposed neck. A quick snap and it cracked.

Before he even landed on the ground, my foot hammered into Slim's knee. It gave with a crunch and he keeled over, leg bent uselessly under him.

I turned.

She yanked her dagger out of Barry's chest. He stumbled, feet sliding over ground slick with his own blood.

Her attention shifted to Mark. His strange eyes widened, unable to comprehend the scene before him.

Time to open the curtain.

With a quick tug, I removed the glamour around her aura, introducing him to the one and only…

"
Sondaleur
," he whispered.

She bared her teeth and flew into action.

To my left, Slim surged to his feet, his knee regenerated and jaw gaping wide.

I pivoted, twisting him over my leg and using his full weight to smash him to the ground.

"Um, sweet iris," I called out.

Her arm slashed through Mark's stomach, the spray of black blood leaving a random pattern across his white shirt. It looked a bit like a Jackson Pollack painting.

"I don't suppose you thought to —"

Free hand reached for the small of her back. With a light flick of her wrist, she sent my
kouperet
spinning through the air into my waiting palm, then turned to deal with Blondie.

Golden light blazed and Slim was gone. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a matching flash from her.

Arm suddenly locked around my neck and pulled me off the ground.

Gagging, I shoved the
kouperet
back into flesh and bone. He roared, arm loosening enough to break free.

I whipped around, driving the blade across Barry's rib cage.

Violence lit his eyes. "What are you, Jack?"

My Virtue stirred like a living being inside me. Air shimmered, illusion dissipated.

"A paradox," I replied.

Two more strikes and he dropped.

Only Mark was left and he didn't stand a chance.

Kendra leaped, body perfectly arched, arm lifted high for the kill. One brutally precise thrust and he was dead.

Every part of my body ached. Cradling my fractured wrist, I slowly walked over to her.

"Not bad, ninja. Took you long enough, though."

I'd realized she was there when I caught the trace scent of a storm.

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and glared. "You owe me."

I gave a weary chuckle. "I thought you were the one who owed me. Didn't realize we were keeping track."

Staring at Mark's corpse, I suppressed a sigh. We went through all that and didn't get any new information.

Once again, the investigation had ground to a halt. And cleaning up this scene was going to be a pain in the ass.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she fumed. "Coming here on your own? Without a
kouperet
?"

Something was off with the coloring of Mark's shirt pocket.

"Just trying to impress you, darling," I said lightly. "Did it work?"

She was highly unamused. "When I got here, they were about to cut you! If I hadn't been able to —"

I lifted a finger and she abruptly stopped.

I moved closer. A light was coming from it, the glow subtly filtering through the material.

Crouching over the body, I reached in and pulled out his phone.

The call was still connected.

I brought it to my ear.

For a second, there was nothing.

Then I heard it.

The inhale and exhale of someone on the other end.

Listening.

"I'm waiting," he said.

The call disconnected.

Heart thudded against my ribs. How much had he heard?

"Shit." I slid the phone in my pocket. "Lieutenant knows we're here."

She didn't answer for a few moments. "We knew it was going to happen."

Yeah, but I'd hoped for later rather than sooner.

I stood. "How did you get up here without an elevator key?"

"Charmed the doorman and took the private service elevator."

Even a grumpy bastard like Donny would've been no match for her.

"Did you see the girl —"

"Yeah."

"Is she…" I stopped, unable to say it.

Kendra shook her head, face pale.

Sadness, regret, and a deep weariness dug into the pit of my stomach. I had to construct a plausible scenario to cover up these bodies.

Not just Aquidae. Human as well.

I took a deep breath. "I'll get started on clearing the scene."

"I'll search his home office and files. We can go over them later."

She headed back into the apartment.
 

Night pressed in.

Adrenaline receded. Coiled tension of risk released. The thrill of toeing the line between life and death faded.

And all that was left was me, alone on a rooftop, surrounded by death and the stench of blood.

****

"Seventy-Seventh between Broadway and Amsterdam."

Left arm dangled uselessly by my side. We got most of the blood off before we left Mark's apartment. But we couldn't do much about our torn clothes and general state of dishevelment.

Cab driver barely spared us a glance.

Gotta love New York.

"How soon is Oriel going to handle it?" she murmured.

I leaned back, wincing as muscles protested. "She'll call me within the next two hours."

We fell silent, the space between us filled with the sounds of sports talk on the cab's radio.

"Have you talked to people in Haverleau?"

Surprise flickered across her face. "Chlo, Cam, and Ian have been keeping me up-to-date. Aub's being released from the hospital tomorrow. Alex is being anti-social as usual and —" she abruptly stopped.

"And?" I prompted.

She turned to look out the window again. "And that's it."

I didn't have the energy to push. Or maybe the courage.

I changed the subject. "How'd you know where to find me?"

"Do you really expect me to tell you?"

"I bet I can guess."

"You can try."

I studied her for a moment, something desperate and rough twisting in my chest. I wanted to stay with her like this for as long as possible.

"Let's see," I drawled. "Maybe you have secret magic abilities I don't know about. Or maybe you're an all-knowing goddess. Maybe —"

"I knew you'd back out," she said, triumphant.

I faced her completely, not wanting to miss a single moment of her reaction.

"You pretended to take a shower. You knew the call from Barry was likely to come in some time tonight. So you waited in your bedroom, listened to my call, and followed my cab."

Her mouth opened, then closed. Opened and closed.

I tried not to laugh.

"How…" Indignation flashed through her eyes. "How did you know that?"

Passing street lights rhythmically cast her face in light and shadow. Her clothes were ripped in several places and stained with sweat and blood. Unkempt hair flew around her face in a tangled mess and an ugly purple bruise marred her cheekbone.

She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

"Because I would've done the same thing."

The words came out more intimate than I'd intended.

Silence fell again and this time she broke it.

"I don't like this," she said quietly. "It's too dangerous, Julian."

"Been doing this long before I met you, sweet iris —"

"It's not the same." Serious eyes met mine. "We're getting in deep. Stakes have changed."

"What do you suggest?"

"Get support. Maybe a few more chevaliers. Or gardinels."

It wouldn't work. It was the same argument I'd had with Gabe when I first started going undercover.

Chevaliers were trained to fight as a team. Same with the gardinels. Their discipline and ability to follow orders were what made them a strong cohesive unit, especially for larger targets and major battles.

But this type of investigation didn't work that way. It required small, precise calculations, frequent adjustments, and a flexibility that was difficult to maintain with a bigger group.

Working alone gave me the agility I needed.

What I did wasn't about staying within the lines. It was about crossing them.

Walking along the sharp edge of a blade and diving into the dark crevices of our intersecting worlds. Existing in places not many people were willing to go.

Except her.

And then I realized that wasn't quite true.

The image of an intricate phoenix rising from red and turquoise flames unraveled from my memory.

There was someone else. Someone cunning. Resourceful. Tough.

"Don't worry."

Her eyes immediately turned wary. "LeVeq, I hate when you say that."

My smile widened. This was definitely going to be entertaining.

"I know who can help."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emma Raveling writes urban fantasy, fantasy, and paranormal fiction for young adults and adults. She is currently busy at work on the rest of the Ondine Quartet series.

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