Ilona Andrews - On the Edge

She turned on her heel and went into the house. Declan was only a step behind.

Grandmother sat at the kitchen table. Her face was very pale. Her gaze fixed on Declan, as if he were a murderous maniac. Rose didn’t blame her. His eyes were completely frosted over and his face promised a storm.

“Where are the boys?” Rose asked, noticing Declan’s cloak, draped over a chair. So he’d come here first, and then tracked her down to the back.

“Asleep,” Grandma said, her voice carefully neutral.

“No need to wake them, then. Declan and I’ll go up to the house. I’ll come back for the boys in the morning.”

Declan swiped his cloak, hanging it on his left arm, bowed, and gently picked up Grandma’s hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “Je vous remercie avec tout mon coeur pour votre accueil si chaleureux et de votre gentillesse. Bonne nuit, Madame Éléonore.”

“Je vous en prie. Au revoir.” Grandma’s voice was clipped with tension.

Rose bristled. Her knowledge of French was minimal, but she caught “thank you” and “your kindness.” Declan stepped to the outside door and held it open for her.

“Rose, you can stay here,” Grandma said quickly.

“I’ll be fine.” Rose forced a smile and left the house.

She waited until they cleared the lawn and started down the path to her house, before she spun to him. “What did you say to her?”

“I said, ‘Thank you very much for your cordial reception and your kindness. Good night, Mrs. Éléonore.’ ”

“What were you doing in my grandmother’s house?”

His voice was acid. “Looking for you. You were gone for a long time. I thought you might be in danger, and I tracked you down. It wasn’t exactly difficult—your wheelbarrow left very clear tracks.”

She glared at him. “You terrified my grandmother.”

“I was the very soul of courtesy.”

“Yes, that’s why she’s sitting in the kitchen with a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. Don’t come here. Ever. My grandmother has nothing to do with any of this.”

He stepped closer to her. “Now, you listen to me. There are things going on here that you aren’t equipped to deal with, and whether you like it or not, I’ve chosen to protect you from them. If that means I have to enter your grandmother’s house or follow you into the Broken, then you’ll just have to deal with it, because even if the lot of you pile all of your magic together, you can’t stop me.”

The magic buckled inside her, spurred by her anger. The night gained a pale shimmer, and she realized her flash had leaked into her eyes, making them glow. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she ground out.

His eyebrows came together in disbelief, and then his own eyes blazed white. They glared at each other.

“No more stalling, Rose. You’ve lost your job. You have all the time in the world now. You’ve promised the first challenge tomorrow. Deliver.”

“You’ll have your challenge.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They didn’t speak all the way home.

JACK sauntered into the house, following Rose and Georgie. Rose headed into the kitchen, Georgie went into their room, and Jack ambled a bit in the living room, deciding what to do. If he went back outside, he’d have to stay inside the ward lines. He could go to the kitchen and steal something to eat . . .

Jack passed by the door to Declan’s room and froze. The blueblood sat on the bed. In front of him on a rough canvas lay knives. Many, many sharp knives. The sun filtered into the room through the window, and the light played on the smooth surfaces of the blades.

Declan picked up a knife and drew a soft cloth over it. A spicy scent spread through the air. Cloves.

Jack liked the way Declan smelled. Like pumpkin pie spice, mixed with leather, and sweat. It wasn’t a girly type of smell.

Declan raised his hand and motioned for him to enter. Jack snuck in, making no sounds, and stopped by the bed. He didn’t say anything, just watched the cloth slide up and down the blades with a very soft sound: whoosh, whoosh, whoosh . . .

“Do you like school?” Declan asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They make us sit still for a long time.”

“Is it hard for you?”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Rose says if I want to be a good predator, I have to learn to be patient and do it. She says patient predators don’t go hungry as much.”

“And you want to be a good predator?”

Jack nodded.

Declan took another rag, dabbed some oil on it, and threw it to him. Jack snatched the rag out of the air, fast, before Declan could change his mind. He looked at the blades and looked at Declan. The blueblood nodded.

Jack’s hand hovered over a large, flashy dagger. No, too big. Big meant slow. He was a small cat, and he was strong for his size. There were things that were a lot bigger and stronger, but few things were faster.

“Trailing point knife,” Declan said as Jack held his hand over the narrow blade with an upward curving back edge. “The curve makes the blade longer. It’s light and quick. Good for slashing.”

Jack moved his hand to the knife to the right, with a back edge that swooped down in a concave curve to a razor-sharp point.

“Yatagan clip. The back edge curves down. Some people leave the back edge false, so it’s dull. I like mine sharp. It’s a fast knife. Good for tight quarters and quick stabbing.”

Jack stared at them, torn. Slashing like claws or stabbing like teeth? Finally he picked up the yatagan clip and gently drew the cloth along the blade. His teeth did more damage than his claws. Jack drew the cloth along the blade. Whoosh . He smiled.

“Do you know what ‘anemic’ means?” Declan asked.

Jack shook his head.

“It’s a kind of disease that happens when your body lacks blood or iron. People who have it become tired quickly. They’re usually pale and weak. Have you ever heard Rose mention it when she talks about Georgie?”

“Georgie isn’t anemic,” Jack said. “He would be okay except for Grandpa. Grandpa and all the animals are making him sick.”

“Grandpa?” Declan raised his eyebrows.

“We keep him in the shed out back,” Jack said helpfully. “So he doesn’t eat dog brains.”

Declan gave him an odd look. “Charming Edge custom, keeping elderly relatives locked up.”

“Because of Grandpa, Georgie can’t fight that good. I protect him in school, but he’ll go into middle school when he’s twelve and I won’t. I don’t know what to do about that yet.”

Declan gave him another odd look. “Is the schoolwork hard?”

Jack shook his head. “Boring. We do word lists. You have to memorize the way words are spelled and pretend to read them back. I don’t have to. I already know how to read. Rose taught me.”

“What about math?” Declan asked.

Jack shrugged. “I can add things together. I already know how many angles are in a triangle. It’s called tri-angle. I’m not stupid.” He held on to the knife a bit too long, but made himself put it down and looked at the trailing point blade. Declan nodded.

Jack took the knife into his fingers. He liked the way it felt, light and comfortable. “Lunch’s awful,” he volunteered. “They give you fish sticks. They taste like cardboard. Georgie says they’re made from mystery meat. Nobody eats them.”

“Have you ever eaten cardboard?”

Jack nodded. “I chewed it.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to know if it’s good to eat.”

Jack put the knife down with reluctance.

“What kind of animal do you change into?” Declan asked.

Jack narrowed his eyes into sly slits. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”