Blade Song - By J.C. Daniels Page 0,67

the bed, kicking myself for not noticing earlier.

“I see a girl who’s been hurt,” I said flatly.

“That’s not what you see.”

Sighing, I stared again.

“She’s hiding,” I murmured. “Like she’s curled up in on herself and won’t come out.”

“Yes…she fears her change now. Even though she’s spiking…ah, there he is.”

I looked back and saw a hand appear through the wall. It wasn’t a mirror on this side. Just a wall. Seeing a hand poke through it was…odd. Very odd. It disappeared a second later and then a moment later, he came running through like he was ready to mow down anything in his path.

I applauded—quietly.

The mother chuckled.

Damon snarled at me.

“He keeps doing that like it’s supposed to mean something,” I said, turning back around to face her.

She smiled at me. “This is what I mean by it’s so much more complicated. Don’t worry. It will make sense in time. Come. I want you to talk to her.”

“She’s sleeping,” I said.

“Yes…a deep, deep sleep. Your voice won’t wake her. But you may help her. Come. Talk.” She patted the bed by the girl’s feet. “Talk…and I may be able to show you what you wanted to ask her. There are…awful things in her mind. Awful, Kitasa.”

I blew out a breath but before I could take a step, a hand clamped around my neck. “Not smart,” Damon growled. “She’s spiking.”

“She’s sleeping,” I pointed out. “And she’s not going to do anything. Whatever those bastards were doing, it terrified her so much, she’s fighting the spike.”

“You can’t fight it.”

“Not indefinitely,” the mother said. “But she’s trying very hard. Don’t worry so much, Damon. I can tell if she’s going to stir and certainly you’re fast enough to protect your own…aren’t you?”

“I’m not his,” I said. “Geez, are you all deaf?”

Damon’s hand tightened, just a little, then he let me go. Somehow, it didn’t surprise me that he hovered at my back, just an inch away as I settled on the foot of the bed at the girl’s feet.

“Do you know her name?”

“Lesil. Her name is Lesil,” the mother said quietly. “She was leaving school. Unhappy. The students there are unkind. She was trying not to cry when a car drove up. She knew the boy inside. He made her smile. Said he would buy her dinner. She wanted so badly for somebody to offer her a kindness…”

I knew what that was like.

“You’ve seen what happened to her?” I asked softly.

“Healing can be a deep, intimate experience.”

Bile churned in the back of my throat as I lifted my gaze and met her eyes. “Who healed me?”

She inclined her head. “You were injured in my house. A visitor. By one who is still a pupil. Naturally, it was my responsibility.”

Humiliation, rage, bitterness churned inside me.

Looking away from her, I focused on the girl. “There’s nothing intimate about seeing somebody’s most painful moments, Mother,” I said quietly. “It’s just another humiliation. Another dishonor.”

Her hand touched mine. “I know you think so…but you were never dishonored, warrior. The dishonor is, and has always been, theirs.”

I just shook my head.

“Tell me what I need to know to stop this.” Focus on the job. Just the job.

Not the witch sitting next to me, and not the man behind me, staring at me with eyes I could practically feel searing me to the soul.

“He took her. There is a drug for shifters that incapacitates them—it’s called night. I believe that is what he gave her, but I don’t know because all I can experience is what she experienced. There was clarity and happiness, and she looked at him and smiled, laughed as she stole some of his fries, then she took her drink. Moments later, there was darkness. When she woke, she was in a hole.”

I closed my eyes, fighting as memories swirled too close.

“You will not enter the Dominari, Kitasa. You will not shame this family—”

“I’m going to try, Grandmother.” I’d stood up to her. I was fifteen and by our laws, I could enter if I chose. I had no sponsor and it would be grueling work alone, but I’d run it. And when I didn’t make it, I’d drop down…and die.

The awful, lovely smile that spread across her face. “You will not.” Hands grabbing me, dragging me.

“…she wasn’t alone.”

I gasped as I settled back into my mind, the memories of that time falling away.

Swallowing, I shook my head to clear it and looked at the mother. “What?”

“She wasn’t alone,” the mother said patiently. “There were others with her.