Night Shift (Kate Daniels #6.5)(90)

“The file we have on you says you don’t always to the smartest thing.”

I felt one side of my mouth twitch upward. “Yeah, it’s a failing of mine.”

“I heard you telling Yasha earlier that you felt called to protect the prey from the predators.”

I smiled. “So I wasn’t the only one eavesdropping tonight.”

“A good agent always keeps their ears and eyes open.”

“And their mouth shut?”

“Sometimes that’s a good idea, too.”

“That’s another failing of mine.”

“I noticed.”

I nodded slowly, more to myself than anything else. “I’d like to stay. If you don’t think I’d screw this thing up six ways from Sunday.”

“I can’t predict any screwups, but I think that given the right training and discipline, you could do a lot of good.” He hesitated. “Can you live with being a target for a while? And having me be your shadow?”

“If I quit and the city went down the crapper, I’d feel like it was my fault. If I stay and do a good job, I could help stop it.” I looked up at him. “Though I’m gonna need a lot of help. I’m new at this.”

Ian Byrne held out his hand and I took it. “That’s what I’m here for, partner.”





THE BEAST OF BLACKMOOR




MILLA VANE





PROLOGUE





Victory made gods of men.

So had claimed the first man who’d hired Kavik’s sword. At the end of the day, the man’s gold had filled Kavik’s purse and the blood of his enemies had stained his armor, but Kavik knew little about gods and couldn’t imagine what it must be to feel like one. After years of swinging his blade to no avail, however, he finally knew what it was to defeat rather than be defeated.

By midnight, victory tasted of too much ale and ached of the urgent need to piss.

Stomach roiling, he stumbled out of the inn and into the courtyard. The heat of this kingdom fed on a man’s sweat even at night. He wiped his brow and turned away from the noises of rutting coming from the shadows. Two other warriors celebrated their victory with more than ale, and he couldn’t stop the sour bile from rising into his mouth as the sounds resurrected memories that he’d buried again and again.

Blindly he walked until the warriors’ grunts no longer echoed in his head. The streets twisted through the city like Blackmoor’s maze of stone. He retraced his path. Nothing was familiar. The courtyard that he thought sat in front of the inn was overlooked by a tower of white marble instead. Runes marked the door.

A temple to the moon goddess, Vela. Kavik had never seen one before. All temples in Blackmoor had been destroyed before he was born. In this land, they must have been, too. This temple had been newly built. The marble still shone like polished ivory.

As he stared, dim recollections crowded his throbbing head. Whispered tales of warriors who earned the goddess’s protection and great reward. They only had to complete a dangerous task in her name.

Kavik had a task to complete. He’d dedicated half his life to it—only to know failure each time.

But today he’d finally known victory. He would soon know it again.

The temple doors were unlocked. He staggered through them and into a dark rounded chamber. No torches or candles burned. The only light shone through the temple walls, where the phases of the moon had been carved through the marble. The carvings circled the chamber, a full turn of the moon, from a thin crescent to full and then waning.

A silver offering bowl sat on a pedestal in the light of the full moon. Kavik started toward it and tripped over an unseen stair. His steel helm slipped out of his hand, dropping onto the stone floor. The loud clatter broke the reverent quiet.

“You are drunk, boy.”

A woman’s voice. A priestess. Through the darkness, he made out the shape of a chair beneath the carving of the new moon.

Boy. She couldn’t know how young he was. Though he’d only seen fifteen winters, Kavik had already grown larger than most men. He stepped into the light shining around the offering bowl so that she could see him better.

“Not a boy. A warrior.” He tossed a coin into the bowl. “With gold earned by my sword.”

His first coins. When he had enough, he would have an army. But he wouldn’t need an army with a goddess by his side.

The priestess’s voice came from the darkness again. “Have you come to pray that you will survive your next battle, then?”

“I want a quest.”

“A quest?” The woman stood, a slim shadow in long black robes. “That is a dangerous thing to ask for, young warrior. No quest comes without great pain. And if you fail, you will wear Vela’s Mark.”

Kavik already had scars. Some on his flesh, some deeper. And some wounds that weren’t scars yet, but still raw and dripping agony from his heart like blood. “The goddess must send me to Blackmoor to defeat the warlord Barin.”

The priestess’s light laughter sounded through the chamber. “You do not dictate what your task will be. Vela will determine what needs to be done and will work through you. You can ask for a reward, though it does not always take the form you expect.”

“I will do anything she requires of me. In return, I want the power to defeat him. If not strength, then the knowledge. He cannot be touched by blade or fire.”