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  “Shame about the paralysis, pet,” he tossed over his shoulder. “That’s gotta sting.”

  He could practically hear her inner molars grind.

  Fingers twitching where he held the sword’s hilt, Cade studied the snarling FED. Although he could have shifted, that ecstasy of power, his jackal half wouldn’t be able to do much more than maul the powerful demon.

  Besides, when he shifted, his jackal tended to take control. That lack of control had once been why he’d refused to shift, refused half of his soul. Ever since his father…

  Well, Cade preferred control.

  One thing to say for being recruited as one of the Treaty’s Blades: he’d embraced the animal inside so he could do his duty, so he could finally be a whole, instead of fragmented pieces. And while he relied on his jackal, even welcomed the wild pleasure of animal instincts, in this situation, he couldn’t. Alana’s safety was on the line.

  Although from what he’d glimpsed, Alana could protect herself.

  It was strange how that carried threads of pride, ones that arrowed to the heart of him, where the memory of teaching her archery on grass that sparkled with morning dew was as real as the demon in front of him.

  The cold whisper of High Lands’ wind. A grazing touch as he corrected her hand at the bottom of the bow.

  They’d had to train in the mornings; her parents, being as traditional as if it’d been the nineteenth century, would have sent him away if they’d seen him drilling their heir on the best kill spots for valkry and furies. Together, the volatile races governed the Northern Zone, the territory that bordered the High Lands. Cade had wanted her prepared, just in case.

  “You’re a big son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Cade commented, shaking away the past. The demon unleashed a roar that echoed around the pocket, lowered his horns so the tip of the right one gleamed in the dim light available. Breath uncurled from his nostrils like thick smoke.

  Cade’s jackal rumbled, instincts clamoring for the kill.

  The demon charged.

  Evading the poisoned claws, Cade concentrated his strikes on the demon’s midriff, leaving fine scratches that barely made a dent. His head whipped around as the demon’s meaty arm bashed against his shoulder, sending his sword spinning two feet from his boots.

  Cade vaulted up the wall and swiped at the demon’s injured horn with his heavy boot. Jagged shards of the demon’s own horn-shell stabbed the vulnerable flesh inside. The demon moaned, one clawed hand flailing at his shattered horn. The shell would grow back, but it would hurt like a broken bone being reset. Best to spare him the agony. Ducking under the demon’s arm, Cade nailed him in the back of his knees. Twisting, Cade leaped for his sword, rolling when his hand met cool metal. The heavy footsteps of the demon pounded on the cobbles.

  Lurching to his feet, Cade had enough time to thrust out his sword before the demon reached him. There was a stomach-turning squelch as the blade sank into the demon’s chest. His roar died into silence as he collapsed face-up to the ground. Red eyes drained to milky white.

  Cade jerked his sword out, grimacing at the blood that dribbled from the blade. “Damn, and I polished this last night.”

  Gingerly, he wiped the blood on the demon’s tattered trousers, arching his eyebrows as the sticky fluid clung to the metal. “My luck.”

  He sighed, turning to face Alana. He walked toward where she was slumped, folding his arms, the sword hitting the buckles on his boots with a clink. “So much for this place teaching you skills.” He raked his eyes over the walls caked with grime, pictured the dingy rooms he’d taken in the Outer Boundary, close to the Maze. And fantasized about his private house in the Heartlands.

  He flashed a toothy grin, pushing past the longing for cleanliness. “It must be eating you up that you can’t argue with me. I can’t believe that’s changed.” He scratched his chin where bristles had begun to sprout. “If I said the sky was gray here, you’d claim it was white, and let the holy fires take you before you’d admit different.” He paused. “What to do now. I could return you to your gang.” He sneered, despising the simple truth. His princess shouldn’t have a gang, shouldn’t be involved with a social terrorist. A hostile rumble emerged from his throat. “I think I’m going to keep you around. I have questions.”

  Her glassy eyes didn’t so much as flicker, nor did her skin bloom with fire, as he’d often seen when she was a teenager. A doll laid out for him to cart anywhere he pleased. Things could’ve gone worse. He slid his blood-encrusted sword into the sheath strapped on his back.

  He worked both hands under until he could pick her up. He cradled her head on his shoulder. “Scrawnier than you used to be.” He juggled her as though comparing. His gut did that odd clenching thing again. “I suppose that’d be the gutter diet.”

  The nearby battle noises were beginning to peter out, and any moment he and Alana could have company. Jostling her, he maneuvered one hand into a pocket he’d sewn into his trousers. Dragging out a thumb-size rock, he brought it to his lips and breathed on the surface.

  Reacting with the heat of his breath, it gleamed a milky blue. The glow lit Alana’s pale face, her beauty undeniable even with the shorter hair and lines that Maze-living had carved.

  Angry at his thoughts—he didn’t want memory strangling him, not when it came to duty—Cade commanded the enchanted stone, “My rooms.”

  Picturing the rooms he’d taken, he tossed the stone into the air. There was a flash of bright violet, a blast of light that soon funneled upward. Cade disappeared with Alana in his arms.

  Trick’s fangs made a showing as he linked his arms behind his back. As he watched Faer, he cocked one elegant eyebrow.

  The fierce demon actually shuffled his feet.

  “Repeat that,” Trick commanded. Soft. “Please.”

  Faer grimaced. His upper lip was bleeding, his right cheekbone smashed in. Bruises bloomed on his tawny form, seen through rips in his clothing. “She ain’t here, boss.”

  “Look again.”

  “We looked twice. She ain’t nowhere.”

  Trick fought against the strangled sensation that crept up his throat, the human panic he resented. He shifted to Vander when the human appeared from a side pocket. “Well?”

  Vander’s eyes were blackened but solemn. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing through here either, Trick.” Sapphy hesitated as his gaze snapped to her. A cut sliced across her neck, but had already begun to close. The ends of her braid ruffled in the calming breeze she’d conjured. “Maybe she went back to HQ.”

  “Maybe.” Except she wouldn’t. Yes, Ana had to have her own rules, but she wasn’t an idiot. With the price on her head, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to disappear without warning. Not with the rebellion beginning to gather speed.

  “She can see to herself, Trick. She tells us so every day.” Faer attempted a grin that fell flat. One broad hand rubbed his nape, sliding up to scrub his left horn. “I’m sure as demons is demons that our phoenix has it handled.”

  Except this time, Trick feared their phoenix was caught in quicksand and sinking faster than even she realized. His fangs throbbed with unresolved rage.

  He considered them, the gang he and Ana had assembled to fight injustice in the Southlands. Theirs was a unit, one that worked and lived like a…

  He couldn’t even think the word.

  “We’ll search again tomorrow if she hasn’t appeared.” Trick’s gaze encompassed them all. “For now, let’s clean house.”

  Even as they all moved to obey, Vander flipping open his satellite phone to place a coded call to Prosecution, worry pumped from them all in an almost-visible wave.

  Cade watched as Alana stirred, her dagger balanced in his hands. “Morning, sunshine.”

  She blinked, sleep clinging to the edges of her eyes as her head angled toward the sound of his voice. Her hair stuck up in clump
s on one side where she’d slept on it, atop the large double bed outfitted in dark cotton covers he’d bought personally.

  He’d been watching her sleep off the paralysis from a nearby armchair, struggling with the questions he needed to ask. How had she fallen in with Liberty? Why? What did she do for the rebel? Had she killed an innocent?

  The questions made eating impossible, his stomach as queasy as though experiencing a seven-hour voyage on a sea ship.

  He’d whiled away the hours by confiscating a satellite phone—sadly with no handy “Liberty” speed dial—and searching through her pockets. The blade he held was a thing of interest, the single other being the bow he’d taught her to shoot with.

  Girlish laughter on the breeze, stern amusement when the arrow embedded itself into a tree.

  Cade swallowed against the white heat of memory. Push it away.

  He found the blade intriguing. Not only had she enhanced it so that it bore a serrated double edge, but she’d altered the hilt from wood to silver. With her inner fire channeled to the blade, it’d become a serious weapon. It made him wonder how dangerous a life she lived.

  She made a startled noise. His lips curled upward when her eyes darted from him to the iron chains binding her to the bed’s rusted metal headboard. He’d customized them with an inner padding so the iron didn’t permanently scar her, only held her, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t show the appropriate gratitude.

  A degree of smugness was heavy in his smile. He leaned backward and settled into the cushions of the chair. “Fair’s fair, Alana.”

  It was rage that sparked first, magnificent in its intensity as the amber of her eyes literally glowed. “Iron?” she hissed. “You bastard.”

  “Fair play.”

  Color bloomed in her cheeks. She gave the chains a testing rattle. He watched with interest as she scowled, then gave them an infuriated yank. They held; he’d known they would. Those chains had gone with him on every job he’d been assigned. For one thing, they were iron, which many species—including phoenixes—were intolerant to, but a witch he’d dated had also enchanted them to be beyond mystically strong. A furie in a rage state couldn’t brute their way out of those chains.

  She shifted to him. “Let me go, Cade.”

  He tapped the blade against his lips, smiling when her eyes widened at the sight of her weapon. He crossed his ankles. “Soon. Maybe. First, I have questions.”

  “Yeah, well, fuck you and your questions.” She blew a lock of short hair off her face. A moment of frustrated silence. “Why can’t I burn them?”

  “Ah, yeah. They’re mystical.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t have you burning your way out before I’m ready.”

  The dawning sun, angling in through a midsize window opposite the bed, played light over her features. Small flames danced in her eyes—a spooky sight, if you hadn’t dealt with a phoenix in her hormonal teenage years.

  “So. Princess Alana,” Cade said, drawing out her official title. He cocked his head, his jackal at the forefront as he traced her features. “How long has it been?”

  She glared at him. Her lips remained sealed.

  “I’ll tell you. It’s been over a decade. Ten years, where the phoenix Houses have appointed an imbecile cousin of yours to rule as governor.” Cade shoved the flicker of irritation aside with trained ease.

  Alana ran her tongue over her teeth. “Funny, I always liked Sebby.”

  “He locked himself into a freezer recently and almost froze to death.” Cade shook his head. His fingers dug into the cushioned arms. “That’s who’s leading your people?”

  Her mouth tightened. “Not my people.”

  “Right. These people are yours, now. Gutter people. Filth.”

  “Fuck you, Cade.”

  “Yeah, you said that.”

  “I’m going to carve your tongue out and feed it to a cerberus.”

  One corner of Cade’s mouth inched up at the mention of the hounds rumored to have traveled from hell itself. “Honey, I’ve had worse threats. Shade, remember?”

  “Ah, yes. ‘The justice assassin’.” As though disgusted, Alana tilted her head up. She glared down her nose at him. “How proud you must be.”

  He was used to having to hide his true work, but her contempt rankled. The jackal gave a warning growl that spun out through Cade’s throat. “It’s a life.”

  “For you. Not for the people you hunt.” Her lip curled. “You’re a pet killer for ’crats like Edward.”

  “You mean your once-fiancé?” Cade bared his teeth in a savage grin when she lost color at the reminder. “He’s doing fine, by the way. Building hospitals in the Outer Boundary, improving conditions in the entire Southlands.” Cade jerked his chin to the window, covered by a thin blind in case any foolhardy soul tried to peek in. It didn’t matter that they were on the second floor; he’d found that if people were curious enough, they’d find a way.

  “Tell that to the people out there battling for their next meal, dying in the streets.” Alana’s voice was tight with suppressed passion. “Edward can keep his empty words.”

  “I don’t get you.” Frustration knotted his stomach. “You don’t want conditions to improve?”

  She snorted. “Course I do. You honestly think Edward has a twenty-year plan for helping Maze-dwellers instead of his precious ’crats?” Sarcasm slimed her words. “You must be as stupid as you look.”

  “Watch it, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, I’m pissing myself.”

  “Your language is appalling.”

  “Tell it to someone who gives a shit.”

  He tried to get the conversation back on track, nestling deeper into the cushion of the chair he sat in. His jackal prowled beneath the surface. “Why were you fighting those demons last night?” That had surprised him; gutter gangs weren’t exactly into the protection detail. More like looting and kidnapping.

  “Me and my gang, we look for trouble.” She smiled prettily, crossed her ankles with dainty precision, the heavy biker boots ruining the effect. The covers wrinkled as she moved. “We steal from the poor, kill them. Easy prey, yeah?”

  Something wasn’t right with her speech, though it had been everything Cade had previously believed. He shrugged it off to consider when he was alone, trying to push aside the fact that her tank had flipped up to reveal the bottom of a taut stomach. He and his jackal wanted to bite.

  “I saw a vampire and a demon, but what were the other two?”

  “I don’t feel like telling Edward’s mutt.” Alana’s lips pressed together. “You can suck it, Cade. I’m no traitor.”

  “And I am?”

  She said nothing.

  “How am I the traitor?”

  Alana raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “You betray your own kind for coin. You think nothing of Edward’s tyranny, and have the shit-for-brains idea that his actions speak of kindness. You’re the worst sort of fool, Cade. But then,” she sneered, “you always were.”

  The silence beat between them for almost two full turns of the clock’s second hand before Cade could speak. He ignored her slurs against Edward, having had firsthand experience of the ruler’s good nature eight years ago.

  Instead, he concentrated on the last part of her speech. A bitter emotion shoved at him, urging him to hurt her. “Wow, is that what’s riding you, Alana?”

  “What?” A scowl descended, creating lines that ran across her forehead.

  “All this anger over the fact that I didn’t say ‘I love you’ back?”

  Her skin paled in a visible wave. “Fuck you, Cade.”

  “That was the problem, wasn’t it? You wanted to.” He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile, pushing to his feet and prowling closer to the bed. His jackal brushed up against his skin, unleashing a growling rumble. “You wanted more than that teasing kiss you gave me, wanted me to pet you with the
se hands all over, until you were begging for more, until you were dripping.” He leaned on the bed, arching over her like a shadow.

  If she’d paled before, now she was the color of Edward’s crystal palace. “Stop.”

  He leaned in, firing the darts at her, wanting to hurt her for the past years of worry and hurt and pain. For wanting to sleep with a lesser. For seeing him that way. “The princess and the bodyguard. High-born and the filth that came from—” He broke off before he said too much.

  Her mouth separated, the bottom lip shivering. “I never thought that.”

  “Sure you did,” he said, as easy now as it had been excruciating to face when she’d disappeared. When he realized she didn’t think he was worth even a note. “Every ’crat wants to slum it.”

  “You were my friend.” Her legs kicked out at him in restless motions, her chains clinking together as she struggled. Pain whiplashed across her face, chased by anger. “My only one.”

  “Well, if that’d been true, maybe you’d have let me know before you disappeared, so I’d know if you’d been murdered too. Or taken and sold.” He shrugged. “Hey, I was just the bodyguard. Right?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  The grin he flashed was brutal in its mockery. He stood, playing with her blade, the point dancing close to piercing his skin. “Baby, life’s not fair. In fact, she’s a cruel bitch. I’d have thought you and she’d have got along well.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ana knocked her head against the headboard for the third time, taking a fierce delight at the throbbing of her skull. Every time Cade’s mocking comments made a return viewing, she hit her head against the wall to drive the thoughts out.

  Thump.

  She didn’t understand the hostility. He’d been cruel, and the Cade she remembered had never been so. He’d been tough on her, yes—she remembered one particular training session when he’d made her stand out for three hours solid in the morning, rain driving into her face, down her cheeks, as she fought to hit the bull’s–eye of a crudely drawn target.