Page 4

Damon

K it stood by the small jet we’d charted, arms crossed over her chest, her gaze on something far, far away—and it wasn’t anything on the horizon barely beginning to lighten with the coming dawn.

The distance between us wasn’t as wide as it had been a few days earlier. I still wanted to kick myself for not seeing the guilt in her eyes because I’d been too busy choking on my own, but that was something we both had to push past.

None of it helped Doyle.

It didn’t help anybody.

I didn’t give fuck-all about making myself feel better but I hated that Kit felt guilty. If manning up and getting my shit together helped her, then I’d suck it up and do it.

With a cup of shitty coffee as an offering, I closed the distance between us. She stirred as I drew even.

“I’d offer a penny for your thoughts but I don’t carry much pocket change.” I held out a cup for her and said, “How about shitty coffee instead?”

“So romantic,” she said, the corners of her mouth kicking up as she accepted. “I’m just thinking everything over.”

“Everything…as in what we’re getting into?” I sipped my own mud-colored sludge.

Her lashes, thick and spiky, shadowed the deep green of her eyes as she slanted a look at me. “That…and what Chang told us. Plus, I’ve got this feeling of…” She blew out a sigh and said, “It’s not dread, exactly. But like there’s another boot waiting to fall.”

“Shoe.” Pulling her to me, I pressed my lips to her temple. “It’s waiting for another shoe to fall. And fuck me sideways but I don’t think we can take another shoe falling on us.”

“Better invest in Kevlar umbrellas, cat. Those shoes are coming whether we like it or not.” Under the vest she’d donned over a long-sleeved, thermal shirt, her strong, sleek shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “There’s going to be boots and shoes falling all over us.”

Unfortunately, I suspected she was right. I didn’t have her instincts, but I had a bad feeling in my gut all the same and it told me there was a world of shit coming.

I had no idea what situation Doyle was in—if he was even still Doyle .

That I could laugh was something of a miracle, but I found myself doing it, pulling her in closer and nuzzling her hair. “You and me can take on a blizzard of shoes and boots, baby girl. Just stick with me?”

“Where else would I go?” She reached up and gripped my wrist, turning her face to mine. “There’s nobody else crazy enough in this world who could put up with me.” Then she made a face. “Well, maybe Justin, but he’s taken. And he and I never did quite click, did we?”

Groaning, I said, “Don’t bring Houdini into this.”

“You have to admit, he’s grown on you.”

“Yeah. Like a tumor.”

“Time to break up the snog-fest, boys and girls.”

I turned at the sound of the creaky, cranky voice behind us, loosening my grip so Kit could do the same. I’d heard Zeke Gentry approaching but the prick had already annoyed the fuck out of me so I kept my attention on Kit until he drew close enough to be a potential problem. I didn’t see that happening. Gentry had come recommended by Scott, which meant Scott trusted him and I trusted Scott.

Kit looked him up and down, her brow crumpling as she echoed, “Snog-fest?”

“I see how that cat looks at you.” Gentry’s mouth twisted. “I don’t want any extracurricular activities going on aboard my plane. If it gets messy, I gotta be the one to clean it up.”

“Considering what I’m paying you, you could afford to ditch this piece of junk and buy a whole new aircraft.” I was baiting him, but the words were nothing less than the truth.

“I like this one.” Gentry’s face softened as he reached out and patted the fuselage. Something that might have been a smile creased his face. “She’s been with me through thick and thin. She’ll do me just fine.”

I studied him a second longer. No. Couldn’t be a smile. I was pretty damn sure his face would crack.

“I get it,” Kit said when he glanced back at us. “Trust me, Mr. Gentry. We won’t get your plane…messy.”

His brow winged up as he considered her. What he saw on her face must have satisfied him, because that almost-smile stayed in place. “We’re about ready. I just gotta get the preflight done. Why don’t you two go ahead and board? Pick your seats. Been a while since I’ve done this long a flight. We’ll have to touch down once for a refuel—both me and this ol’ girl here. Give you two time to stretch your legs, too.”

Bemused, I eyed Kit. It looked like she’d gone and charmed the mean old bastard. She had a way of doing that with the most unlikely people—me. Then there was Chang, who trusted next to nobody. Justin. T.J. Hell, the Green Road witches were a paranoid lot and they’d all but adopted her.

Unaware of my focus, Kit snagged the first of her bags. Before she could get the second, I reached for it. The lead-wrapped burden inside it pricked against my senses and I grimaced. Even wrapped up and under wards, the blade known as Death had a presence.

It was one that I could feel.

That wasn’t a surprise—I’d always been sensitive to magic. Thanks to the bombshell Chang had dropped on me, that sensitivity made more sense now.

But Death could make even those who were practically inert feel him.

Kit’s magic was subtle—the first time I’d met her, I hadn’t thought she was much more than human, just an offshoot, maybe with a witch up her family tree somewhere, but not much else. The longer I was around her, the more I realized how off-base I was.

Her magic was just…quiet.

Somewhere in Gentry’s family tree, there had been a witch. I could smell it and feel it, a tickle in the back of my nose that made me want to sneeze.

But he didn’t have much magic to him. If he did, he’d have done a lot more than frown when he took the bag from Kit as she unloaded it from the rental truck earlier.

I blanked my expression before Gentry could see. He might be all but magically null but he was damned observant and I didn’t need him picking up on anything I might betray.

Kit smiled at me as I hefted that bag and my own, but when she went to get the third, Gentry was there, scooping it up before she could touch it.

Her brows arched as she thanked him.

His cheeks flushed slightly and I laughed silently. Yep, she’d gone and charmed him, too.

Maybe I’d tell her about it later, ask her how come she was so good at charming the mean, mistrustful and miserable.

An hour later, we were on our way, cruising over the Atlantic as we headed east, final destination: the Faroe Islands. At least, that was where Gentry thought we were going. Once we got there, he’d let us disembark, refuel and head to Scotland. A pack Chang was friendly with had offered to host him and let him put his plane in one of the pack hangars until we were ready to return, or until we needed him for the next stretch of our journey.

To his credit, Gentry hadn’t asked questions.

That was why we’d hired him—we needed somebody willing to take money and be quiet.

We weren’t exactly using legal methods of entry here, although thanks to Chang’s clever skills with tech—and his willingness to ease the way with money where needed—we would be able to convince just about anybody that we had everything in order.

Kit sat at the window, staring outside and shivering slightly.

I grabbed one of the blankets I’d requested—when I called the grouchy prick about them, he’d growled and barked until I told him I’d pay extra. He’d named a ridiculous amount, but I hadn’t cared.

Now, as I tucked the thick weight of it around her, she looked at up me, puzzled.

“You’re shivering,” I told her.

“Am I?” She drew the blanket more snugly around her. “I hadn’t noticed. I’m cold a lot lately.”

“I did notice.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and eased her as close as the seats and seatbelts would allow. “You look tired. You should get more sleep.”

“I might try. I doubt I will.”

She drifted off less than thirty minutes later with her head on my shoulder. I rubbed my cheek against her hair and stared at the back of the seat in front of me.

The plane we were on wasn’t anything fancy—it was no rust bucket but it came with no extra bells and whistles, although Gentry had pointed out a cabinet where he kept some alcohol, soft drinks and snacks stored, in case we needed it.

There were no TVs, not that I could see myself being able to focus on a screen right now.

Most of the time, the quiet didn’t bother me.

We were on the hunt and like most predators, I know the value of patience. The cat in me understood patience very well.

Right now, that quiet gave me too much time to think and my mind invariably turned back to Chang and the revelation he dropped on me.

My thoughts chased each other, memories spilling free, his comments replaying as slivers of other memories worked free.

They felt like mine but didn’t feel…real.

As the voices in my head started to build upon each other, my mind locked on that talk with Chang until it was like a whirlwind of whispers and fragmented memories, rising and spinning until I couldn’t shut them out.

Give me something— anything —to shut this shit out, I thought.

The pale, washed-out gray of the fake leather headrest in front of me seemed to vibrate with how hard I was staring at it.

Finally, I closed my eyes and turned my head, burying my nose in Kit’s hair.

The soft, silky strands brushed my cheeks and chin.

She shivered a little and pressed closer. The armrest between us gouged into my side, but I ignored it and let the feel of her, the scent of her, center me.

As my head calmed, the tangle of voices in my head resolved itself, most of them fading until only a couple remained.

One was Chang’s, as familiar to me as my own.

The other…belonged to a woman.

Christmas, two years earlier

“We’ve met before. You. Me. Trish. A long time ago. Years before you came here. I can’t explain now. But at some point, you need to remember.”

Her name was Bridie.

Her sister was Tricia—or Doc, to some of her friends.

I’d known them for maybe fifteen years, meeting them not too long after they moved to E. Orlando. At the time, I’d been working my way up the food chain in the local cat clan—the one I now ran. Back then, it had still been under the iron fist of Annette and I was one of her bonebreakers. I handled the rougher areas because I had a knack for handling problems, and because the others in the immediate line of command kept hoping somebody would kill me before I decided to make the next move up the chain—it hadn’t worked out.

Because I’d been where I’d been, I’d had the pleasure of… welcoming the sisters to East O. I’d known they hadn’t been human, but I’d pretended otherwise, telling Annette that as far as I could tell, they seemed human, just decided to set up camp in our area—maybe they were trying to lay low and figured they’d blend in better in our area.

Annette had bought it and assumed they’d either give up and leave or just…disappear.

Those disappearances happened occasionally. Unless it was witnessed, or the person was one of note, nothing came of it.

But the sisters didn’t disappear.

Save for me, everyone assumed they were exactly what I’d claimed—human. Bridie was a damn fine cook and took stray kids in under her wing. Tricia was a pain in the ass at times and made some of the finest weapons I’d ever seen—not that I used them much, but I knew quality work.

That was why I’d come.

She’d crafted a blade for Kit, a Christmas gift for a holiday we’d never celebrate.

I should have sent Chang to collect it.

He knew about the sisters. I could have avoided how Bridie managed to look clear through me, as if she saw straight into my heart. I could have avoided Tricia’s piercing gaze and probing questions.

And this…

I could have avoided whatever this was.

Bridie went to pull away before I could ask her what the fuck she was talking about. And then, as the door behind me opened to admit Chang, she started chatting about scotch.

What the fuck—

We’ve met before. You. Me. Trish. A long time ago. Years before you came here.

You need to remember .

A sharp, stabbing pain speared into my right temple and I jerked upright, hand flying to that space instinctively.

You need to remember.

“Damon?”

Remember .

Kit was already awake and I felt her hand on my arm as invisible needles tried to drill their way into my skull.

REMEMBER.

My spine locked up and I slammed back into the seat in reaction, teeth clenched.

“Damon!”

“Head,” I ground out, teeth clenched. Fumbling with the latch on the seatbelt, I tried to undo it. It resisted, my hands going clumsy on me.

I was about to claw it open when Kit caught my wrists. “I’ll get it. Just stop.”

A second later, I was free and I staggered to my feet, stumbled a few steps, still clutching my head.

REMEMBER .

Kit appeared in front of me, gripping my forearms. “Talk to me.”

“My head ,” I said. It was all I could manage.

Nothing else wanted to come out.

Nothing else could come out.

‘ We’ve met before…’

My heart crashed against my ribs. Boom. Ba-boom. Ba-BOOM.

Chang’s voice.

‘ I’m sorry, Damon. But I took your memories from that time and buried them…’

Once more, pain splintered my temple.

‘I took your memories.’

I swayed, then went down to one knee, dragging Kit with me. If she hadn’t been in front of me, I might have crashed face-first into the piss-poor excuse of carpet covering the floor of the plane.

‘REMEMBER.’

Kit caught and steadied me, one hand on the back of my neck, stroking.

“Breathe, Damon…just breathe…”

Sure, fuck. Why not. That sounded simple.

Except my head was about to explode—

‘I did it to protect you, but I’m afraid it’s time for you to remember…’

There was a sensation of something giving way inside my skull.

And then I wasn’t me anymore.

Or at least, I wasn’t the man I’d become.

“ It’s time for you to remember, Damon. It’s time for you to remember all of it. You must remember Sidik.”