Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown Book 2) Read online

  I twisted around to see what was happening behind me. Luc knelt over the body of a woman; the other was nowhere in sight. Barney climbed to his feet, and though he was covered in bits of plaster and wood, he looked unharmed aside from a small cut running along his left cheek.

  I uncrossed the daggers, and the shield disintegrated, leaving me feeling washed out. But at least my eyes weren’t bleeding; creating the shield and ashing the halfling hadn’t drawn too much on my strength.

  “Well, fuck,” Mo said, holding out one hand. “Even I didn’t know you could do that with those daggers.”

  I clasped her fingers and pulled her upright. “Neither did I, to be honest. It was a wing and a prayer moment.”

  “And one that means Nex and Vita have accepted you in a way they’ve not any other generation of De Montfort women.”

  I frowned. “Countless ancestors have used the lightning—there’s multiple records of it in those old diaries you hold.”

  “Yes, but the immersion process never went deeper than surface level. There’s no mention in any of those diaries of a lightning shield, and Vita hasn’t ever saved the life of another De Montfort—not since Rhedyn, anyway.”

  Rhedyn was the first De Montfort to hold the daggers. She was also responsible for the tradition of passing them on to the firstborn girl at puberty—though I’d gotten them from Mo rather than my mother, simply because by the time I hit fourteen, she’d been dead for nearly eleven years.

  “You never did tell me why Nex and Vita were forged, or even why they were given to Rhedyn rather than her brother.”

  All I really knew was that they’d been forged at the same time as the king’s sword, and it had been the goddess Vivienne who’d gifted them to the De Montfort line. Which made no sense. No matter how friendly Mo appeared to be with the Lady of the Lake, why would she give them to my ancestor’s over the Aquitaines? We might once have been warriors able to both give and take life, but the Aquitaines had always ruled and protected this land—until Layton’s dismantling of witch rule, at any rate.

  “No, I never did, did I?” Mo patted my hand. “That’s a tale for a less dramatic moment. Go check the balcony while I examine our dead halfling.”

  I shook my head, then righted the two chairs and walked over to the shattered glass doors. Glass crunched under my feet, and the wind whipped in, its touch chilly and filled with the promise of more rain. It had already whisked away the ashed remains of the halfling—only a blackened circle of concrete spoke of the force that had hit him.

  I carefully opened what remained of the door; a big chunk of glass smashed down, spraying glittering shards across the balcony. Above me, well beyond my line of sight, came an odd noise—one that sounded like the scrape of nails across concrete.

  Light flickered down Nex’s side in response. It definitely wasn’t a human scrambling around up there … I gripped her hilt tighter. Lightning spat from her sharp tip, hissing lightly as it hit the floor. If I wasn’t careful, she’d set the whole damn place alight.

  I stepped through the doorway and peered up. Unfortunately, the old stone lintel was wider than the actual door, and I couldn’t see past it. The scrape echoed again, this time accompanied by a brief fall of dust. He was on the move—

  A hand came down on my shoulder, and a squeak of surprise escaped as I swung around. Only quick reflexes on Luc’s part stopped Vita scouring open his stomach.

  “Damn it, Luc,” I growled, keeping my voice low, “you know better than to creep up on me like that.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” He pointed with his chin to the balcony. “What’s the problem?”

  “Something’s crawling around on the roof.”

  He reached back and drew Hecate again. Light flickered down her sides, but she wasn’t hissing, and she certainly wasn’t screaming like a banshee; but then, she only seemed to do that when in the middle of a fight.

  “You keep watch here; I’ll go up and see if I can grab them.” He swung around and retreated. “Barney? I need you to unlock the roof’s exit.”

  As the two of them left, I took a tentative step out the door. More dirt showered down past the stone ledge. I gripped the edge of the doorframe and leaned out. It took me a moment to spot him; the halfling’s thin form matched the color of the brickwork so well, he was almost invisible. He was currently under the building’s eaves, skittering sideways with an ease that very much reminded me of a spider.

  I couldn’t see Luc and Barney, nor could I hear them. Even if they were up on the roof, they wouldn’t see the halfling; he’d already scuttled across to the next apartment. If I didn’t do something, we’d lose him. Unfortunately, using Vita and Nex was out of the question; they were life and death, not capture.

  “Mo, need your help here.”

  “What have you found?” She hurried over and peered past me. “Well, I haven’t seen one of them for quite a long time.”

  “What is it?”

  “A half-blood Aranea, from the look of him. They caused a lot of damage in Uhtric’s time, as they could climb over any sort of defense.”

  “Not magical, surely.”

  “No, but they were able to weave a way through most of our spells.”

  I frowned. “Demons aren’t capable of magic.”

  “Aranea are neither demons nor dark elves, but rather a Darkside version of humanity.”

  “A revelation that’s guaranteed to give me nightmares.”

  “Here’s another one, then—where there’s one Aranea, there’re usually others. They nest together.”

  “Great. Thanks.” I watched the brown figure for a second. “Does the nesting thing apply to half-bloods?”

  “That I don’t know, as I’ve never come across one before. I’ve a feeling we’d better find out, though.”

  “Then you’d better fling a tracker spell, because he’s about to escape.”

  “I will, but you’d better ring your brother. If they attacked us, they may well attack him.”

  I nodded and immediately called Max.

  “What’s up?” he said.

  “We were just attacked by an Aranea—”

  “What? Are you both okay?”

  “Yes, but Mo thinks they’ll also come after you.”

  “Why? The sword’s been drawn—the game is over.”

  “Except it may not be—”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing right now. Look, Mo’s about to fling a tracker at the Aranea, so I’ve got to go. Hunker down and keep safe.”

  “Only if you do the same. I need you alive, little sister.”

  “Getting dead is not on my to-do list for today. Catch you later—”

  I was talking to air. He’d already gone. As I put my phone away, Mo flung her spell. It hit the halfling’s butt just as he went around the corner.

  “Let’s go.”

  She shifted shape and soared upward. I hastily lashed my daggers together and followed. The spiderlike halfling moved with surprising speed and dexterity considering he didn’t actually have eight legs. I wondered if his full-blooded cousins did … and shuddered at the images that instantly rose. I didn’t need to be thinking about that sort of shit when we were about to enter a possible damn nest of the things.

  The Aranea continued to scramble across multiple buildings, his coloring changing to match whatever brickwork he was currently on. He generally kept under the eaves but moved up to the roof whenever the size of a window made the crawling space too small. And while he didn’t appear able to fly, he could certainly jump—the streets in Ainslyn’s medieval section were fairly narrow, but beyond her walls, the streets widened out. He seemed to leap most distances with ease.

  After another few minutes, he leapt onto the roof of a brown-brick Georgian building that had once been—according to the sign at the front—a funeral parlor, then clambered around the back and went in through an open window. I followed Mo down the small laneway that ran along the left side of the building and shi
fted shape under the convenient—but empty—carport.

  I eyed the run-down garages that lined the building’s rear fence, seeing a lot of cobwebs and half wondering if Aranea had spun them. “I don’t suppose you can tell from here if we’re dealing with one half spider thing or a nest?”

  She smiled. “Well, no, and there’re no obvious signs of occupation.”

  Maybe not, but we’d learned the hard way that didn’t really mean anything. Three halflings had been monitoring our place from the building next door, and we’d had absolutely no idea until Ginny had mentioned the possibility.

  “It’s promising that we can’t smell them,” I said.

  “We didn’t smell the lot next door, either. Not until we raided the place.”

  And discovered they’d chosen to defecate all over the floor rather than risk us hearing the toilet flushing at a time when we knew our neighbor—Saskia—was away visiting relatives.

  “But if we are dealing with a nest,” Mo continued, “they’ll be holed up underground.”

  The thought of tracking this thing into the bowels of the earth had my nose wrinkling. “Would halflings go underground, though?”

  “Impossible to know until we get in there.” She studied the building for several seconds, her expression hard to read. “Either way, we’d better not do so unprepared. It might be best if you fly—”

  “Uh, no,” I cut in. “It’s not that I don’t trust you not to go in alone or anything—but I don’t.”

  “I’m mortified you’d say something like that.” Though she feigned hurt, amusement shone in her eyes.

  “I can’t see why, when you raised me.” I waved a hand toward the house. “We both know the minute I disappear, you’re going to head in and kill the bastards.”

  The amusement got stronger. “Not all of them. We do need to question the fellow we followed to see who the actual target was.”

  I frowned. “He was obviously shooting at you.”

  “Let’s not forget you were standing beside me, and they’ve certainly taken shots at you before.”

  Yes, they had, but I’d gotten the distinct impression that while the demons might want me dead, the dark elves didn’t. I had thought that was because they wanted to get to Max through me, but after learning about Hanna Okoro, I wasn’t so sure.

  Which was yet another thought guaranteed to give me nightmares.

  “All of which does not change the fact that it makes more sense if I stay—you’re the one who’s dealt with the Aranea before, and you’re the only one who has some idea what it’s going to take to deal with the bastards.” I smiled. “And you can be damn sure I’m not stupid enough to go in there alone.”

  “That I’m not so sure about. I did raise you, after all.”

  I laughed softly. “Go. I’ll watch in blackbird form. Hopefully anyone who spots me will think I’m a pigeon.”

  “Which will only work if the Aranea aren’t aware who and what they’re dealing with.”

  And that was extremely unlikely. She didn’t say that out loud, but she didn’t really need to. “Then the sooner you go, the sooner you and the cavalry can get back.”

  “Just stay alert. It’s always possible this is yet another trap.”

  I nodded. Once she’d left, I regained bird form and flew over to the small shed situated on the back fence of the house next door. I couldn’t risk drifting on the breeze, because this was a well-established residential area, and a bird carrying knives wouldn’t exactly be a common sight. It also risked drawing the attention of any watchers the Aranea had in place.

  I landed on the shed’s roof, deposited my knives in the gutter, and then strutted up to the roof’s ridge. I wasn’t high enough to see into the first-floor windows, but it did give me a view over the surrounding houses. There were obviously a lot of families in the area, because there were toys, trampolines, and bikes scattered throughout the various yards. Two boys chased each other around a few houses down, their laughter filling the air. It was a bright sound in a gloomy, rain-swept day.

  There was nothing here that tweaked my instincts; nothing to suggest anyone living in this area was in any way aware that they had a nest of half-demons living right next to them. I doubted they’d so readily let their kids play unmonitored if they were.

  I walked to the other end of the shed, then flew over the funeral parlor’s roof to the building on the far side. As I did, a gray Merc drove into the narrow lane, then stopped in one of the marked parking bays in front of the old garages. I walked across to the chimney and used it for cover as I peered out. The driver didn’t immediately leave his car; from what I could see through the heavily tinted windows, he was on the phone and—if his gestures were anything to go by—animatedly disagreeing with whatever the other person was saying. This went on for several minutes, then he thrust the door open and climbed out.

  Shock rolled through me, and it was all I could do not to squawk in surprise. I may never have met the man below, but he matched the description Henry had given us and left me in little doubt as to his identity.

  This was Winter—the halfling who killed my cousins and who’d more than likely ordered Tris’s murder.

  He was a delicately built man, with long white hair held back from sharp cheekbones by a black, trident-shaped, and very dangerous-looking hairpin. His features bordered on effeminate, and he was unmistakably from Okoro stock, even though his eyes were as blue as summer skies. But it was his skin that gave his true origins away—it had a grayish tint. His ears were also pointed.

  When Henry had described him, he’d used the feminine pronoun rather than masculine. I wasn’t sure why; despite his effeminate features, the man below clearly identified as male. But then, halflings were hermaphrodites and able to switch between functioning as a male and a female. Perhaps he’d taken on a more feminine look when he set out to murder my cousins. It would certainly explain how he’d gotten unchallenged into the house—Gareth had been a ladies’ man. Maybe he’d quite literally invited death into his home …

  Winter slammed the car door closed and stalked into the house. I shifted uneasily, wanting to see what he was up to but knowing full well moving from my hiding spot could lead to disaster. These people—this man—had been two steps ahead of us from the get-go. If we wanted to reverse that situation, then we—or rather I—needed to proceed cautiously. I shifted shape and called Mo.

  “What’s up?” she said without preamble.

  “The halfling who killed Gareth and Henry—the one called Winter—just turned up.”

  “Don’t you dare go in after her.”

  “He identifies as a male from the look of it, and I don’t intend to.”

  “Promise me.”

  “Mo, he’s going into a possible nest of creepy-crawly half-human things. There’s no way known I’m going in alone.”

  She grunted, somehow managing to sound unconvinced. “It’s going to take us a good fifteen minutes to get over there. Sit tight, and let me know if the situation changes.”

  “I will.”

  I shoved the phone back into my pocket and then resumed my other form. I had no idea if anyone was home in the houses opposite, but they were more likely to notice—and report—a strange woman huddled on a rooftop than a bird.

  The minutes ticked slowly by, and it began to rain again. I fluffed out my feathers and huddled closer to the chimney; while it at least protected me from the worst of the wind, it nevertheless was damn cold and uncomfortable.

  Winter came back out a few minutes later, jumped into his Merc, and quickly left. I ran across the roof to see which direction he went and then slid back, changed form, and called Mo.

  “How far away are you?”

  “Five—why?”

  “Winter’s just left. I’m going to follow him, but I can’t take my daggers—they’ll just slow me down.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Sitting in the gutter of next door’s shed. I’ll ring as soon as I have a location.”
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  She didn’t say be careful. She didn’t need to. I shoved my phone away, then shifted shape and leapt skyward. The speed limit around these parts was low, so it didn’t take me very long to catch up. If there was one thing to be thankful for about this damn storm, it was the fact that my light plumage made it harder to pick me out against the sky. While there’d been a slight chance the Aranea didn’t know I was a whitewashed blackbird, those odds were nonexistent when it came to Winter.

  He drove past Ainslyn’s main Hospital and Urgent Care Center and then turned left onto the highway. He left it again after a couple of kilometers, continued on for a few more, and then turned into a tree-lined country lane surrounded by farmlands. Eventually, he pulled off the road and parked in front of a field gate. I swooped down and perched on the branch of an ash—and not a moment too soon. Winter looked around as he climbed out of his car and then looked up, studying the skies for what seemed like an extraordinarily long time. I made like a rock. The ash’s foliage was fairly thick, but one wrong move could easily reveal my plumage.

  With a satisfied grunt that was barely audible from where I was perched, Winter locked his car and then walked down the road to an open water drain. After another look around, he ducked under the old wooden barrier, then jumped down and disappeared from sight. I hesitated, well aware that I was alone and without my weapons, then mentally smacked myself. Unless he had a gun, he couldn’t actually hurt me—not when I was on the wing, anyway. I leapt out of the tree and swooped toward the drain.

  A quick flyover didn’t reveal where he’d gone. I swung around and followed the other side of the drain for several seconds. Still no sign of the man.

  I circled around and, after a brief hesitation, dropped low enough to view the large storm pipe that ran under the road. Nothing there, either. Nothing other than dripping water and thick strings of moss.

  He couldn’t have disappeared. He was a halfling, and incapable of magic. There had to be something here I was missing.

  I eyed the drain warily for a few more seconds, then changed and dropped to the ground, brushing my fingers lightly against the wet grass to catch my balance. My appearance didn’t draw any sort of response, and yet trepidation nevertheless stirred. I reached into my pocket to turn down my phone—the last thing I needed was it inadvertently ringing and advertising my presence—then cautiously walked on. The closer I got, the louder the steady drip of water seemed to get. It ate at my nerves and sent my heartbeat soaring.