Shaedes of Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novel

Raif snorted. Definitely disgusted. “We are nothing but what we are,” he said, very enigmatic. “Who’s Delilah?”

“A friend of Tyler’s . . . or something. She’s blind, but she can see things—invisible things. Like the Lyhtan during the day.”

“So he brought you this Seer to help you spot your attacker during the day?”

“I guess so. I could break her with one hand, she’s so tiny. I don’t think she’s good for much else.”

“You do keep strange company, don’t you?”

I didn’t have much time to contemplate his question because his sword was swinging toward my face.

My skills improved. I’d become faster, stronger, more adept. A warrior Shaede, Raif had made me a killing machine—lethal and unapologetic. And, in my opinion, ready for anything.

“No, not yet,” Raif said.

“Why not? You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you?” I shouted in the empty building.

Raif shook his head. “Your lack of patience is what’s going to get you killed,” he said in his dead-calm tone. “You can’t charge ahead like a young bull on this one. You are an assassin. Let your stealth be your greatest weapon. Be patient, and your prey will come to you.”

“When?” I asked.

“Soon,” he said.

“You know what, Raif?” I said, my anger boiling, “I wish you’d—”

Raif clamped a hand tight over my mouth. “Shhh. Don’t you ever mutter that word in my presence.”

“Wha wrd,” I mumbled behind his hand.

“Wish.”

He slowly removed his hand from my mouth, as if afraid I’d actually say it. “You want to elaborate on that?” I asked.

“No. Just watch your mouth.”

Again, I walked home in the hours before morning with a thousand questions, the least of which being the strange weapon that was supposed to protect me from the Lyhtan. Why not a sword—a magic sword? Wasn’t there supposed to be a magic sword that kills us? Why not one for the Lyhtans too? And now that I thought about it, when was I going to get a magic sword? I’d need one if I was going to kill Xander’s son. Instinctively, I reached my hand to my back and caressed the hilt of the katana. Maybe I’d had a magic sword all along. . . . But would Raif let me train with something that could actually kill him? I was a walking question machine, spitting out queries faster than my brain could fathom an answer. I made it to my building and found Delilah on the sidewalk, waiting for me.

“Delilah,” I said in greeting.

“Hi!” she said in that self-assured voice that was an oxymoron to her appearance.

“See anything creepy hanging around?”

“Not yet,” she said. “Can I come up?”

I grabbed her hand and helped her to the apartment. But truth be told, she didn’t need much help. She didn’t suffer from her lack of actual sight. First impressions can be misleading.

Delilah had a strange sense of the world around her. I guess I should have anticipated as much. After only a single tour of the place, she knew her way around my apartment as if she’d lived there for years.

“Have you known Ty long?” I asked, setting the bottle of shadows on my kitchen counter.

She took a seat in front of the TV, listening to one of those cheesy court shows. I pretended not to mind. “I’ve known Tyler for ages,” she said.

“Huh.” Ages couldn’t have been too long; she looked barely old enough to be out of high school. “How old are you, Delilah?”

“Older than you’d think.”

God, how I hated cryptic answers. It seemed as though everyone around me had taken a class in beating around the bush. “And you’re not a run-of-the-mill psychic human, right?”

“Nothing gets past you.” Delilah laughed, and I sent a glare her way that would have given anyone else a moment of heart failure. But she didn’t flinch. My dirty looks were a wasted effort.

So Tyler had at least one more supernatural friend than I’d thought. Not counting the very human, very informed Levi. How many more did he have stashed away for a rainy day? Thinking of the way I’d wandered the city, ignoring all of my better senses, made me sick. I’d been surrounded for years and stuck my head in the sand. How very smart of you, Darian. Christ. “When did you see the Lyhtan?”

Her lips curved into a slight smile, making her look even more waifish. “I’ve seen them more than once. They’re not very agreeable characters. They like to create havoc wherever they go. And they’re nasty too. Mean, masochistic beasts. When I see one, I run the other way.”

“Run?” I couldn’t picture her running anywhere.

“I’m not weak,” she said. “You should know looks can be deceiving.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said. I didn’t exactly look like your average dangerous killer, though how she knew that, I have no idea.

“What do you have planned for today?” Delilah asked.

“I’ve been up all night. I plan on sleeping.”

“Do you care if I hang around while you sleep? Tyler insisted that I stick to you like glue during the day.”

Tyler. What an annoyance he was becoming. Annoying and somehow . . . endearing. “Suit yourself,” I said, heading for the bathroom. I wasn’t going to be responsible for her. If she got herself into trouble from hanging around, that was her problem. “I’m taking a shower. Then I’m going to bed.”

Delilah cranked up the volume on the TV. I didn’t give two shits what she did, as long as she stayed out of my hair.

I didn’t linger in the shower. I staggered into the single room of my studio, ready to hit the sheets and say good-bye to this miserable excuse for a day.

“Hey, Darian . . .” Delilah said.

“Hey, what?” I grumbled as I fell facedown on my bed.

“What’s in the bottle you brought with you? It sounds like it’s full of tar.”

Blind, schmind. Delilah didn’t miss a beat. “Raif gave it to me,” I said. “It’s supposed to be some kind of anti-Lyhtan serum or something.”

“Cool,” she said, just like an enraptured kid. Then asked shrewdly, “Who’s Raif?”

“My teacher, sort of.”

“Hmm. Well, I hope I get to see that stuff in action.”

“Delilah,” I muttered, only half paying attention. “You are one weird chick.”

I heard her giggles mingling with the raucous court-show guests cheering for the verdict. I blocked her out and found a restful sleep.

After weeks of the same boring routine, I decided to skip class, so to speak. A training-free night was what I needed. I called Raif—it always cracked me up to call his cell phone and think of him standing there, talking in his Robin Hood–meets-Legolas outfit—and requested the night off. He let me off the hook easier than I expected. Maybe he was sick of me. The sun had set, Delilah had left, and I wasn’t under house arrest. So I went to The Pit.

I walked the darkened streets, my sensitivity to everything around me heightened. I paid more attention to the smells lingering on the air and the way the breeze felt against my skin. At one point, I’d felt a presence near me and whipped around, only to see a flash of golden fur duck into an alley across the street. But the creature was much too large to merely be another stray dog. I chalked up the sighting to an overeager imagination and continued on my way.

The usual crowd of hopefuls had queued up outside the door. I greeted Tiny, who stood at the head of the line, holding the fate of their social lives in his hands. He was on a total power trip. Cute.

“Hey, Darian,” he greeted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”