On the Edge (The Edge #1)(38)
Author: Ilona Andrews

Jack crawled through the grass like a fluffy caterpillar. He’d circled the clearing three times, studying the lure from all angles, until he finally determined the size of the loop. It lay in wait in the grass, ready to snag him the moment the knife was touched.

But the loop was long and narrow. He could jump over it. He knew he could.

Jack crouched in the grass, tight and ready from the ends of his white whiskers to the tip of his short tail. Jump, bite the knife, and spring the trap.

Sure, the lure would’ve caught any other beast, but Jack wasn’t a dumb beast. He was smart.

Jack exploded into flight. He sailed over the loop, air rushing past him, everything crystal clear and slow around him. The handle of the knife loomed before him. He bit it, the feel of its treated wood handle like honey in his mouth, and flew by, free and clear. The sapling sprang upright. The loop whistled past him. Safe!

A green net rushed at him from below. He tried to veer in midflight, but it caught him and clamped him tight. He scrambled in its soft folds, slicing at it with his claws. The knife slid from his mouth and fell through the mesh to the ground. A meow of despair broke from Jack. He bounced a couple of times in the knot of the net, suspended high above the ground like a kitten in a sack, and then the net was still.

Chapter 13

A whispery rustling of leaves made Jack open his eyes. He unsheathed his claws and hissed.

Declan emerged from the undergrowth. He moved quietly and his eyes were different now: focused and dark. Hunter’s eyes. Jack tensed.

The blueblood approached the net and then stopped, looking up.

"Are you hurt?"

Jack hissed and spat, growling fighting noises.

"I’ll take that as a no." Declan bent down, picked up the knife, wiped the handle on his sleeve, and sat on a mossy log.

"There is a great difference between a knife and a sword."

He unsheathed the smaller sword he carried at his waist. The afternoon sun caught it, turning the blade into a beautiful long claw bright with reflected light.

"Swords are long and cumbersome. They are made to kill your opponent in battle from a distance." He glanced at Jack with his scary green eyes. "Swords are not for you."

He sheathed the sword and picked up the knife. "Knives are quick. Efficient. Quiet. There’s no such thing as a knife battle. When a knifemaster pulls out his blade, he doesn’t want to fight off his opponent. He means to kill him."

Declan leapt off the log and struck at the empty air so quickly he became a blur.

"Rogues carry knives."

The knife sliced and stabbed unseen opponents in a shimmering dance of steel. Jack watched, mesmerized. So quick.

"Thieves. Spies. Assassins. They carry knives."

Declan tossed the blade into the air, caught it by the tip, and flipped the knife so the handle landed into his palm. "A knifemaster armed with a blade like this can go through a room full of soldiers. I’ve seen it happen."

Jack wanted the knife so badly, even his tail itched for it.

Declan examined the blade. "A fighting knife like this can’t be stolen. But you could earn it."

Jack pricked his ears.

"If you prove to me that you can be quick, efficient, and quiet." Declan sat back on the log. "Two miles north from here, there is a trail of the beasts that chased you. They run fast along the ground and they can climb, but they’re slow in the trees. A forest cat can easily outrun them in the branches. If such a cat were to track them, quietly and patiently and find their lair . . ."

Jack growled and spat. He would fight them, he would . . .

"No fighting," Declan said. "Sleek, stealthy, and silent. Like a knife sliding into a man in the darkness. Track the beasts. Find their lair. Don’t be seen. If you do this and show me where they are, you’ll earn the knife."

He smiled. "But that’s an adventure for tomorrow. Right now we have to decide what to do with you. I caught you fair and square. Are you going to come quietly like a wise and patient predator, or will I have to carry you in the net, like a wild beast?"

ROSE sat in the attic, the enormous dusty Encyclopedia of the Weird spread open on her lap. The book was two feet tall, about a foot thick, and heavy as hell, and her thighs were sweaty and rapidly going numb in her jeans.

She had gone through the Bestiary but found nothing that had to do with the hounds. The Encyclopedia was her next best bet.

She turned the big page and adjusted her posture a bit. Her butt was going numb, too.

Adrianglia, Formal Forms of Address. She scanned down the ranks . . . Earl. Earl of "Domain Name." Lord "Name." She yawned and flipped back a page.

Earl – derivative of the Northland jarl. Equivalent to Count in Gaulic Empire. Landed noble above viscount but below marquis.

What was his name . . . Earl Carmine? Carmaine? Camarine. Yes, that was it. She turned the pages to the index and found Earl Camarine.

Earl Camarine: noble ruling Earldom of Camarine. Traditional domain of the Duke of the Southern Provinces. Most frequently used as a courtesy title.

"Courtesy title." She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but she got the gist of it. For all of his la-di-da manners, Declan wasn’t even a real earl. Rose snickered.

"Rose!" Georgie’s high-pitched voice shattered her thoughts.

"Coming!" She pushed the book off her lap and went down the ladder, dusting off her jeans. "Georgie, did you go outside?" She marched onto the porch. "Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?"

Declan stood in the yard. In his arms curled Jack. His eyes were shut. He growled softly in his sleep and kneaded Declan’s arm with his claws. Declan didn’t even wince. "I think he’s tuckered out. Where do you want him?"

The world reared and kicked her in the teeth. She took a moment to recover, and when she spoke, her voice was almost normal. "I’ll take him."

Declan gently deposited Jack into her arms. "I’m sure it would hurt his feelings, but he makes a handsome kit."

"You should’ve seen him when he was a baby," Rose said through her shock. "Nothing but fuzz and ear tufts. Every minute was like a National Geographic Kodak moment."

She took Jack inside and gently put him in his bed.

In an hour she served dinner. Jack slept through it. Afterward Georgie curled up to reread InuYasha, yet again, and Rose brewed a cup of tea and escaped onto the porch. Her solitude didn’t last.

Declan sat next to her on the steps. "Disappointed?"

His voice held no mocking, and she shrugged. "Yes. How did you do it?"

"I set four traps and baited the most obvious one with a knife he drooled over in my room."