Blade Song - By J.C. Daniels Page 0,46

narrowed eyes. “A human girl—a pretty one—walking in there isn’t going to help. Especially once she starts smelling scared.”

“I’m not going to freak out on him,” I said. “I just need to ask him a couple of questions about Doyle.”

“He doesn’t know anything.” The father shook his head.

“I think he might know more than he realizes.”

“Are you calling my kid a liar?”

Oh, for crying out loud. Mildly, I pointed out, “That isn’t what I said. I said, very clearly, I think he might know more than he thinks. I found out some information about some other missing kids and I need to ask him a few more questions.”

“And when he starts coming after you because you smell like dinner or sex, what are you going to do?”

“He’s not going to get within a foot of her,” Damon said, edging in front of me. “But, Conley, you’re going to let her in, and you’re going to do it now before I decide to get pissed off.”

A growl trickled from the father’s throat. “You can’t threaten me for protecting my kid.”

“She’s not a fucking threat to him.”

“She’s human! And when he scares the shit out of her—”

“She doesn’t have the sense to be scared,” Damon snapped. “Trust me, I’ve seen her in action. And I won’t let the kid get near her. Now let her do her job.”

I rubbed my temple as the headache pounded, ever close. This job was proving to be so much fun. Maybe Colleen could brew up some sort of tonic for the permanent headache I was living with.

It took a few more minutes and once Conley agreed, reluctantly, he looked me over with a critical eye. “Just how good are you with your weapons?” he demanded.

I cocked a brow. “Pretty damn good.”

“She’ll take them off,” Damon said.

Conley shook his head. “How is your control?”

Serenely, I smiled. “Well, unless it’s the jerk at my back…it’s generally flawless. I don’t draw down unless I absolutely have to. Don’t worry, I have no absolutely no desire to harm your child.”

Another thirty seconds passed and then he nodded. “Keep your weapons. If you’re a fighter, you’ll feel better with them on, meaning you’re not going to walk around in a cloud of fear. That automatically makes things better from the get-go. Just don’t draw them.”

I laid a hand on the sword, stroked the hand. “I’ll leave the sword someplace else…it’s the most obvious one.”

Behind me, Damon snorted.

Conley went to say something, but I shook my head. “It’s fine. And I appreciate the gesture.”

He shrugged. “I was one of the Assembly’s exterminators before I had a family—my wife was one of the Banner cops. She wouldn’t go anywhere without a weapon. I understand fighters.”

I left the sword on the kitchen table after he gestured to it. “He’s downstairs. It’s quiet. Dark. We soundproofed it for just this purpose after we found Erica was pregnant. The less stimulation a kid going through the spike has to deal with, the better. Keep this short and quick, Ms. Colbana. Please.”

I nodded.

Then he opened the door and slid through. “A few minutes with him first.” He looked at Damon over my shoulder. “You come in first and stay between them for the first couple of minutes.”

After the door shut behind Conley, I looked at Damon. “It gets tiresome having you constantly refer to me as being too stupid to be scared,” I said, focusing on that instead of what I was getting ready to do. Baiting him felt almost normal.

“Having you constantly refer to me as the asshole or the jerk gets pretty old, too. I’ve got a name.”

“You do? Damn. I thought for sure you’d introduced yourself as Lord Asshole the first day.” Sighing, I shook my head. “Your name must have slipped my mind.”

Turning away from him, I focused on the back window and let the minutes tick away.

Long, empty minutes.

Five of them. And then Damon moved, lingering at my back just long enough to murmur, “Do not come out from behind me until I tell you to, baby girl. You hear me?”

I glared at his back. “Excuse me? Baby…”

The door opened and he stepped inside.

Scowling, I reminded myself to yell at him later.

It was dark.

I smelled sweat.

The musk of cat.

Fear.

Automatically, my palm started to itch, but I ignored it. I was just going to talk to a scared kid.

“Stay up on the landing,” Conley called from somewhere in that black maw.

I followed the sound, or tried to, from what I could see behind