Stakes and Stones Read online

  Stakes and Stones

  Jenna Faith Book Two

  Bilinda Sheehan

  Copyright © 2019 by Bilinda Sheehan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  I dedicate this book to the three banes of my existence.

  Miss Medea Mouse, Strike, and Nibs the Kraken.

  Three sources of entertainment and bloodshed who have invaded my home and my heart.

  Without their constant disapproval, editorial input, and ability to keep the keyboard warm by lying on it, this book would have been completed much sooner.

  Want to know when the next Jenna Faith book is coming?

  To learn more about this series and upcoming books, join Bilinda’s mailing list for a chance to get ARCs, member giveaways and sneak peeks.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

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  Also by Bilinda Sheehan

  Chapter 1

  Opening my eyes, I stared up at the painted white ceiling overhead. Thin timber rails broke the roof into sections holding the plaster securely in place, but it was the shadows thrown by the beams that made me uneasy. My dreams had been invaded once more by the Pied Piper. Even now when I closed my eyes I could still see the twisted agony on his face, feel his palpable sorrow as he cradled his daughter’s limp and lifeless body in his arms.

  I’d done the right thing. I was certain of it. He’d killed so many… he deserved to die, right?

  Definitely…

  And yet, there was just this small part of me that niggled. How could I blame him, when I could understand his vengeance? His desire to wound others was a feeling I shared. A way to combat the loneliness. If others felt as we did, then we weren’t quite so alone in the dark.

  For such a long time after Kypherous, I’d felt as the Pied Piper did. The desire to hurt, to maim, to destroy those around me. To rip their innocence away, just as mine had been torn from my soul. Meet out my retribution on innocent flesh as it had been flayed from my body more times than I could count.

  There was a loneliness that burned in my core, the knowledge that nobody else felt as I did. That what I felt made me a monster, a creature of darkness, borne of rage and pain. And even now, as I lay beneath the comfort of my quilt, the desire still burned in my core. Concern wormed its way beneath my skin. This thing that lived inside me, it was a desire so strong, what if I became that which I had destroyed?

  Stupid.

  I’d killed the Pied Piper because he needed to die, he needed to be stopped, his killing couldn’t be allowed to continue. The fact that I felt even a little affinity with the monster he had been meant nothing, it was nothing…

  Swallowing hard, I tried to clear his image from my head.

  It’s done, Jenna, get a grip already and move on…

  God, I wished it were that easy.

  I studied the ceiling a little harder, noting the tiny brown bodied spider that scuttled into the corner, disappearing into the shadows. My eyes drifted down to the moulding that joined the wall to the ceiling. Whoever had decided to paint it pale lime, clearly had a sense of humour, especially when coupled with the buttercup wallpaper with its large pink rose print that were nothing more than black splats in the grey light of the bedroom. Tilting my head back on the pillow, I stared at the thin shaft of light that speared through the dove-grey blackout curtains, the price tags still attached to the one nearest the bed.

  I hadn’t bothered putting them on the pole properly, and now they hung awkwardly. At the time I’d been too tired to care, the price you paid for shopping with Carolyn. She’d dragged me from one department store to the next, parading curtain after curtain before me, as though what I hung on the goddamn window really mattered.

  Did I want silk, or maybe velvet? Thermal lining or a cooling fabric that let the air through. Already lined, or did I want to buy the lining separately? And then there was the small matter of colours…

  In the end, I’d grabbed onto the grey blackouts, a life raft in a sea of fabric. If she’d dragged me into one more curtain shop, I was pretty certain I’d have stabbed someone.

  And the reason for Carolyn’s sudden interest in what I hung on my windows?

  Something about me rising with the lark and getting Merry up before it was time. Not that I could see a problem with waking Merry up, she liked hanging with me in the kitchen first thing in the morning. Not to mention, I enjoyed spending time with her, and not just because her power made it easy for me to rid myself of the nightmares… Eating breakfast with Merry was like getting an injection of pure sunshine.

  Rolling onto my side, I grabbed the clock on the bedside table, another of Carolyn’s bright ideas.

  08:45. I stared uncomprehendingly at the numbers for a couple of seconds, my brain sluggish as it tried to make sense of what I was reading.

  Maybe the power went out during the night? I dismissed the thought as soon as it entered my head.

  “Shit,” I swore under my breath, letting the clock hit the nightstand with a clatter and a twang of its brass bell alarm sound that saw me gritting my teeth. Plastic crunched and I winced.

  “Shit, shit, shit, double shit—” I hit the bedside locker with my foot, pain flaring through my toes as I stumbled around in the dark.

  I was late, or at least, I would be late in fifteen minutes.

  First official day back with Division 6… Scratch that, I wasn’t official. They still hadn’t given me a badge, not even one of those lame laminated plastic tags consultants sometimes wore. Grey had promised to rectify the issue this morning.

  Scrambling to grab the clothes I’d lain out the night before, I hit the bathroom before the numbers on the now upside-down clock clicked over to 08:46. Standing beneath the spray of lukewarm water, I wished for plumbing that wasn’t as old as Methuselah. When I’d first moved into the house, I’d promised myself one of those electric showers, the kind with the fancy rainwater head and water as hot as I could stand it, just as soon as I got the chance. It still hadn’t happened.

  The metal pipes groaned, protesting as I twi
sted the hot tap, hoping to squeeze out even a few more drops of hot water. The shower head spluttered, dumping a deluge of icy spray that had goose-flesh pebbling my skin.

  An angry yelp ripped from my throat. “Mother—fudger,” I corrected, remembering at the last second that I was now sharing the house with an impressionable child who shared my delight for colourful language.

  Hopping out of the shower, I dressed in a hurry. But after my run in with the cold water, I was slower than usual. The cold had that effect on me, making me sluggish. Probably something to do with my ancestry.

  Struggling into my black leather trousers, I landed on the bed. They’d seemed like a good idea last night after a few too many vodkas. Not that I’d been drunk, the best alcohol could offer me was a pleasant buzz, and most of the time it couldn’t even do that. Last night, however, had been one of those gloriously rare occasions. Maybe it was nerves.

  I wasn’t used to being nervous. There wasn’t much the granddaughter of Medusa had to be nervous about, but apparently returning to freelance for the people who had let me down once before was enough to qualify. Flipping my damp, dark hair back over my shoulder, I slipped my feet into my black leather boots, securing them before I was back on my feet. Then I gathered the weapons I’d left around the room.

  My whip, I secured to one of the belt loops, followed by my black karambits. They blended nicely against the leather I wore. I contemplated stocking up with a few more knives and quickly changed my mind. I was going into the office, not a war zone, although considering the way my palms were sweat slicked, a war zone suddenly sounded more appealing.

  One last glance in the mirror and I was done. Make-up wasn’t really my jam. My eyes were dark enough, my black lashes giving me a natural cats-eye-flick. Kohl would accentuate them, but I was going to work, not on a date. Grabbing my jacket, I took one last look at the clock. 08:57… the cold water had cost me more time than I’d realised.

  Merry’s eyes lit up as soon as I set foot in the kitchen and regret swelled in my chest. She hopped down from her chair, her cereal bowl abandoned as she raced to the cupboards and reached upwards with both arms.

  Our little ritual.

  “Merry, not this morning, Jenna has to go out,” Carolyn said, eyeing my outfit. Her gaze paused on the leather trousers and the weapons clipped at my waist, and she arched an eyebrow. “Anticipating trouble?” she asked innocently. “Perhaps the copy machine is on the verge of going rogue and needs some wrangling?”

  “Ha ha,” I said, dryly, rolling my eyes as I scooped Merry up, a low murmur of excitement thrilling through her. She tugged at the cupboard doors, swinging them open at a speed that showed no care for her own safety. I pulled her out of the way at the last second and we narrowly avoided the complete crisis that would ensue if she’d succeeded in smacking herself in the head. She grabbed the cereal box from the edge of the shelf, gripping it to her chest as I placed her back on the floor.

  Before her feet had even touched the flagstones, she was already moving, her little body wriggling free as she flung a grin at me, her blue eyes lighting with joy. She raced back to her chair, climbing onto it, carefully balancing the box in her hands as she settled on her knees.

  Merry was in perpetual motion. She was always zipping off somewhere. In her world there was always something to investigate and sitting still just wasn’t in her vocabulary. Even when she slept, she tossed and turned in the bed, careful to take up every inch of the mattress. For someone so tiny, it was quite the sight to behold.

  With her small pink tongue clamped between her lips, an expression of concentration caused a small furrow to appear between her brows as she held the box over my waiting bowl.

  I smothered a smile with my hand as she proceeded to spill cereal across the top of the table before finally managing to get exactly twelve sugar loops into the bowl. Satisfied, she tossed the box aside in favour of pouring my milk. The box hit the table with a slap. With the milk carton gripped in her small hands, she managed to fill the bowl to the brim without spilling a drop, her movements careful and considered, until the end.

  I lunged forward as Merry tossed the milk carton, but it was Carolyn who saved it from meeting a similar fate as the discarded cereal, catching it with a practiced one-handed grab. Merry grinned and clapped before swinging around in her seat, the second Carolyn’s back was turned, she grabbed the cereal box once more and upended the sugar loops box into her own bowl.

  “You’re nervous,” Carolyn said absentmindedly as she continued to cut squares of paper out.

  “What gives you that idea?”

  She looked up at me again. “Are you seriously asking?”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Aside from your power,” I said, “you can’t tell I’m nervous, can you?”

  She eyed me carefully and then shook her head. “Nope, you’re safe.”

  “Good,” I said, letting my held breath out noisily.

  “Why are you so nervous?” she asked, taking the now empty cereal box from Merry’s hands.

  “Now!” Merry proclaimed loudly, commanding our attention as she proudly presented me with my bowl of cereal. “Now, now, now,” she sang, clapping her hands, her wide infectious grin lightening my mood instantly.

  “Coming, gorgeous,” I said, dropping into my chair next to her with a smile.

  I was already late, rushing now seemed more than a little pointless and, anyway, I had no intention of disappointing Merry.

  Grabbing my coffee cup, I poured from the french press in the centre of the table as I thought about Carolyn’s question. Why was I so nervous? It wasn’t as though I was new to the job. I knew Division 6 inside out, they couldn’t surprise me with anything anymore. I definitely didn’t trust them, too much water under the bridge for that.

  Yet, I still felt like a rookie on her first day.

  “I have no idea,” I said with a loud sigh. Merry shoved a spoon into my fist, her chubby fingers wrapped around mine as she attempted to force my hand holding the spoon into the bowl.

  “Well, you haven’t seen Grey in a while,” she said. “Maybe your nerves aren’t connected to going back but instead to seeing him.”

  I shook my head, scooping up some cereal. It was mostly milk, one lone sugar loop floated on the spoon like a wide unblinking eye. It was enough to put me off and I set it down, pushing the bowl aside in favour of the coffee.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not it,” I said but I wasn’t being entirely honest. The moment she’d mentioned him, my stomach had flip-flopped in response.

  “Pretty sure?” she said, waggling her eyebrows at me. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other, not to mention—”

  “Don’t,” I cut her off, “don’t you even go there. I don’t want to know what kind of freaky feelings you were picking up on when you saw us together.”

  She wrinkled her nose at me. “I’m very good at understanding the emotions and feelings of others, thank you very much.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I said. “I sometimes think you’re a little too good.” Hopping up from the table, I stuck my tongue out at her and Merry squealed in delight before she mimicked my behaviour and stuck her tongue out, too.

  “She’s picking up a few too many of your bad habits,” Carolyn grumbled. “Yesterday, I caught her trying to use the electrical cord from the lamp as a whip.”

  “Bad-ass in training,” I said, holding my hand out for Merry to slap a high-five on my palm.

  “She could have hurt herself, and the lamp is out of commission.”

  Carolyn had a point.

  “Fine, I’ll tone it down.” She nodded in response and I headed to the door. The moment her back was turned, I stuck my tongue out once more, catching Merry’s eye as I did it, eliciting another throaty scream in response.

  With her back still to me, Carolyn sighed. “Very mature,” she muttered beneath her breath, but I heard it anyway.

  “See you later.” I let the kitchen door close gently behind me as I
made my way through the cool dark hallway. It was always cooler out here and no matter how much light flowed in through the windows, it never managed to get any brighter. As my hand closed over the door handle I felt the prickle of something in the hall behind me.

  “Behave,” I said to the air, feeling the prickle of energy intensify as though it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

  Pulling the front door open, I stepped out onto the stoop and almost tripped over the dark wooden box waiting for me.

  What the hell? It was the same box Adrian had given to me to protect Carolyn and Merry from the poltergeist in the house. There was no mistaking the symbols carved across the surface. The whole thing practically vibrated with power. The front door started to slam shut and only my booted foot stopped it from closing completely as I bent down and scooped up the box.

  With the box deposited safely beneath my arm, I shoved against the door. Resistance. I pushed harder, gritting my teeth as my other foot still on the doorstep slid against the rain slicked stone.

  “Let me in,” I said, forcing my shoulder into the gap I’d created. “This is my bloody house—” I gritted the words out between my teeth.

  The resistance disappeared with an audible pop and I caught myself before I hit the floor in the hallway. Merry stood near the ajar kitchen door, her wide blue eyes mesmerised by something just out of sight on the staircase.