Red Dagger Read online

  I blinked. My brother hadn’t said a word to me in over a week. So that’s was what it took to make Angus talk to me. True, he was insulting me, but it was a start. Maybe the next step would be “Pass the potatoes.” But then again, that would involve Angus sitting down at the same dinner table as me. So maybe not.

  I raised an eyebrow at my younger brother —younger by eleven and a half months. According to the letter I was still crushing in one hand, and because our mother was apparently oblivious to the fact that Angus hated his big brother now, she’d got me stuck in little Angus’s course. Oh, goody, I thought with as much sarcasm as it was humanly possible to put into a single notion.

  Giving Angus a look of complete boredom, knowing my apathy annoyed him more than anything else, I said, “Is that all you wanted to say? I’d like to get back to practising.” I lifted my sword, noting the flicker of nervousness that passed over Angus’s face. But, to his credit, he didn’t back away.

  He clenched his jaw, narrowing his blue eyes. “Why did you come back, Ruairidh? Why did you bother? We both know you’re not done with that life. You enjoy the killing too much,” Angus sneered, his lip curling.

  Without bothering to reply to that, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigarette from the crushed pack I’d been hiding from Mum. Despite her usually laid-back demeanour, Layla would pitch a fit if she found out I smoked. Dad hadn’t let me smoke either—he’d always said I had to be in perfect health to hunt demons or I’d get myself killed, and cigarettes were death in a pocket-sized box. But this was the one rule I had allowed myself to break. I didn’t smoke often, just when I was stressed out or particularly annoyed, and my baby brother was beginning to annoy me.

  Tucking my sword under my arm, I popped the cigarette between my lips and snatched my lighter from my other pocket. It wasn’t just for my smoking habit. A lighter was useful in all sorts of situations, like when you had to get rid of a decapitated demon body quickly. I lit up, drew in a breath of the thick, familiar taste of poison sweeping into my lungs, and blew out the smoke in Angus’s furious face.

  Shaking his head in disgust, Angus turned and walked away, muttering curses. I watched him go, wondering if Angus would tell Mum about the cigarettes. I couldn’t bring myself to be too fussed. I was more concerned about the fact that, in less than a week, I would be attending a new college.

  I took another drag on the cigarette, tipping my head back to blow out the smoke. I had the feeling I was going to need a lot more of these to make it through next week.

  Chapter Three

  ** Islay **

  The first day back at college was always the worst. After a two-week Easter holiday of sleeping late and lazing about in the sun with a new book every day, suddenly the seven a.m. wake-up and crowded, noisy hallways were like Hell. The lecture halls were claustrophobic, the excited chatter of everyone swapping stories about what they’d done over the holidays was irritating, and the painfully long hours sitting inside while the sun was still shining brightly beyond the windows was like a slow torture.

  If it wasn’t for my best friend, the battered romance novel in my bag, and a steady intake of caffeine, I was sure I would have gone mad before lunch. As it was, I was staring longingly out the window at a sparrow perched amidst the pink blossoms of a crab apple tree just outside, while Mrs Luke nattered on about trigonometrical equations at the front of the class. The pretty little bird was singing away quiet happily, enjoying the sun and the fresh air. I was jealous.

  A pen lid bounced off my cheek and landed on my desk. Blinking, I turned my attention away from the window and the paradise beyond. Picking up the pen lid, I glanced at the desk next to mine. Ashley, my best friend, was grinning at me. I flicked the pen lid back at her. She moved to snatch it from the air, fumbled it, and swore quietly as the lid fell to the floor. Her blonde ponytail slipped over her shoulder as she bent to retrieve the lid.

  When she straightened, she pushed her glasses back up her nose and gave me a stern look. Leaning over the aisle between our desks, she whispered, “Any hot flings over Easter?”

  I rolled my eyes at her, and she grinned again. Ash knew exactly what I’d been doing all fortnight—reading and taking care of my baby brother. I wasn’t a social butterfly, even less so than her. The odds of me having a hot fling over the summer were about as good as the odds of Ashley winning the X-factor. And, for the record, Ash sang like an alley cat being strangled to death.

  “Yes, Ash,” I said sarcastically, “I hooked up with a gorgeous Italian tourist who happened to stumble into town.”

  Her hazel eyes widened comically behind her stylish glasses. “Ooh. What was his name?”

  Smiling, I played along. “His name was Stefano. He was twenty-one. An underwear model.”

  Ash snorted with laughter, slapping her hand over her mouth to stifle it, but it was too late. Mrs Luke turned around and glared in our direction. Ash sat up straight in her seat, trying to look interested in the words on the chalkboard. I looked down at my notebook, pretending to take notes until the teacher turned away.

  Once Mrs Luke’s back was turned, Ash shot me a sidelong smile. I grinned back.

  Finally, the bell rang, and I let out a sigh of relief as Ashley and I followed the stream of students out into the hallway. Ash had a hold on my blazer sleeve, towing me along behind her as if she thought I might get lost if she let go. She glanced back at me as we rushed toward our next lecture.

  “So, about this Italian underwear model . . .”

  I laughed. “What about him?”

  “Was he good? You know, in bed?” She wiggled her eyebrows, which didn’t really work on her—it just looked as if she had some sort of twitch.

  Snickering, I nodded. “Oh, yes. Very good. Eccellente. Eight inches of hard, Italian . . . salami.”

  Grinning, Ash fanned herself with her free hand. “Damn. I’d like to have met him,” she said. We had arrived at our next lecture and Ashley pulled me through the doorway, still talking. “Maybe next year we should go to Italy. You know, I’ve been dying to see—”

  She stopped moving—and talking—so abruptly that I ran into her back. “Whoa. Ash, what the—” I stepped around her, and saw what had caught her attention. Or rather, who. He was hard to miss. We weren’t the only ones staring.

  There was a new guy in our class. He was sitting in the very back row of the room, alone, twirling a pen in his fingers, staring straight ahead as if he was oblivious to the many pairs of eyes watching him, the whispers passing around the room about him.

  I caught sight of Angus, sitting at a desk by the wall on the opposite side of the room. He was scowling, but his expression lightened when he spotted Ash and me. He waved us over. Nudging Ash forward, I tried to listen to some of the whispers as I walked toward the two free seats next to Angus, hoping to catch the new guy’s name.

  “. . . was in my Physics class this morning. No idea who. . .”

  “. . . heard he got kicked out of his last college. . .”

  “. . . Irish! I mean, have you seen his tattoo?”

  Curious, I flicked the new guy another glance. He was leaning back in his seat casually, the sleeves of his white button-down shirt pushed up to his elbows, and sure enough, I noticed the ribbon of ink wound around his right forearm. Lifting my gaze, I scanned his face. Sharp cheekbones, full lips, black hair that fell in unruly waves over his forehead. There was the glint of metal in one corner of his lower lip. I couldn’t tell what colour his eyes were, but he was definitely attractive, and he probably knew it. He had that air about him. Sort of arrogant, uncaring. And dangerous. The kind of dangerous that came with future jail time.

  Suddenly, as if he’d felt me staring, the new boy’s eyes flicked up and landed on me. I froze, my breath catching, feeling like a deer in the headlights. My first thought was that his eyes were very green. Green and cold. Staring into them was a shock, like having an ice-cube dropped down the back of my shirt.

  “Islay!” Angus said my
name, snapping me out of it.

  I tore my eyes away. I was surprised to see Ash was only just sitting down in the seat in front of Angus. It felt as if I’d been staring into the new boy’s icy eyes for hours, but it must only have been a few seconds. It was still far longer than I liked, and I blushed as I swiftly took the seat behind Angus.

  He turned around in his seat, putting his back against the wall so he could talk to both Ash and me at once without blocking either of us out.

  Immediately, Ashley twisted around, gripping the back of her chair, and asked, “Who’s the new guy?”

  Angus scowled, his gaze going to the stranger at the back of the class. I was startled by the sudden anger on his face. I’d never seen Angus look at anyone like that, and I couldn’t imagine how he could be so angry with someone he’d just met.

  He said with loathing in his voice, “His name’s Ruairidh.”

  Ash grinned, her gaze sliding to the back of the class. “Oh.”

  Then he added, in an even darker, quieter voice, “He’s my brother.”

  Shocked, Ash and I snapped our gazes to Angus. Then to each other. We exchanged identical wide-eyed glances. Then, at the same time, we both said, “Oh.”

  The bell rang, but we barely noticed. Ashley leaned forward, keeping her voice low. “You mean, the brother who ran off the Ireland with your dad?” she asked.

  Angus jerked his head once, his mouth pressed into a tight line. I glanced at Ruairidh, then at Angus, looking for some resemblance, but I could see none. Ruairidh had sharp features, savagely beautiful, all dark hair and freezing green eyes. Angus had a softer, almost delicate face. His auburn hair was getting a little long, starting to get into his eyes—eyes the same colour as the summer sky outside, and usually just as warm. Only right then, they were dark and narrow with anger as he glowered at his brother across the room.

  A sudden, loud crack made me jump half a foot out of my seat. The class instantly fell silent, everyone turned to face the front of the hall, where Mr Collins stood, a heavy textbook in his hand. He must have smacked it down on his desk to get everyone’s attention.

  “Now then,” he said evenly, setting the book down and adjusting his glasses. “I see we have a new student today. Rory McGregor?” He looked up, eyes scanning the room. “Did I say that right? Rory?”

  For a moment, nobody knew who he was talking about. People started looking around, muttering. Then a smooth voice with an Irish accent cut across the room. “Actually, it’s Ruairidh.”

  Everyone turned to look at the new guy—Ruairidh. He pronounced it Roo-ree. Rury. I guessed his name was spelled the complicated way. If he was bothered by the sudden spotlight on him, he didn’t show it.

  “And,” he added calmly, “I prefer Finnegan. Not McGregor.”

  Mr Collins frowned at the list on the computer. “I have it down as McGregor here.”

  Ruairidh scowled. “That would be because my mother would like me to use her surname—like my brother.”

  He gestured toward Angus, who tensed. Murmurs swept around the room at the revelation that Angus was the new guy’s brother.

  “But I,” Ruairidh continued over the muttering, “prefer to use my father’s surname. Finnegan.”

  I could see the tension in Angus’s shoulders, his fingers curling around the edge of his seat under the table, so nobody would notice unless they were paying attention to him. Luckily, nobody was. Everybody was fixated on Ruairidh.

  Clearly, there was some bad blood between Angus and his brother. Ash and I had been friends with Angus for years, but he had never said much about his brother. All he would tell us was that he had an older brother who had moved to Ireland with their dad when their parents separated. We hadn’t even known his name until that moment.

  I wondered when Ruairidh had returned. Angus hadn’t mentioned it when we’d hung out a couple of weeks ago. Then, he also hadn’t said anything about his dad, which made me wonder, why exactly was Ruairidh back? Had something happened to their dad?

  “Okay. Mr Finnegan it is. I’ll make a note on the course register,” Mr Collins said eventually.

  After that, Mr Collins moved to the board to try to explain parabolas, but nobody was really paying attention. Ruairidh’s arrival and his announcement had disrupted the class. No matter how many times Mr Collins slapped the textbook against his desk, the whispers only silenced for a few seconds before starting up again.

  When the bell finally rang for lunch, everyone seemed relieved as they streamed out of the lecture hall. The murmurs rose to chatter as students headed for the lunchroom to grab a bite before their next lecture started. Ruairidh disappeared into the crowd, but Angus hung back, taking his time to pack his notepad and textbook into his bag. Ash and I lingered by the doorway to wait for him, but he waved us off.

  “Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

  I looked at Ash.

  She shrugged. “Well, I’m starving, so . . . see you later,” she said, waving as she strolled out the door.

  I started to follow her out, but then I cast a glance back at Angus’s hunched shoulders, and I hesitated.

  Angus looked up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and frowned at me. “I said you didn’t have to wait.”

  Startled by his harsh tone, I scowled at him. Angus was never harsh, not to me or Ash. Obviously, he was really rattled by his brother’s appearance in class. Taking a chance, I said, “You and Ruairidh don’t get along, huh?”

  He blinked. “You could say that,” he muttered.

  I tilted my head, curious. “Why is he back? Did something happen?”

  Angus’s expression hardened. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He started to walk away, but I put a hand on his arm. He stopped but didn’t look at me.

  I took a step closer to him and said quietly, “You know I’m here, right? When you decide you do want to talk about it.”

  I saw his throat move as he swallowed. He turned his head to look at me, and the anger on his face melted away.

  He smiled gently. “Yeah,” he said, “I know. Thanks, Iz.”

  Smiling back, I looped my arm through his. “Come on, then. I’ve got my psychology lecture after lunch, and I’ll need a caffeine boost if I’m going to stay awake. Why did I ever think taking two part time courses was a good idea?”

  Chapter Four

  ** Ruairidh **

  The first week of college went much as I had expected. By Friday, there were at least half a dozen rumours about me going around. One was that I’d run away to Ireland all those years ago because I was wanted by the police, and that was why I was using a different name than my brother. One was that I’d left because Angus and I had gotten into a massive row over a girl. Nobody seemed to take stock in the fact that I’d been thirteen when I left, but then again, that piece of info may not have gotten around just yet.

  My favourite rumour so far was that I’d been home-schooled for years because I was a danger to other kids. It meant that people were wary of me and mostly left me alone. That was good.

  Nobody left Angus alone, though. Every lunchtime, between my Maths and Biochem lectures, I sat in the furthest corner of the lunchroom and watched as person after person approached Angus and his two gal-pals. Idly, I wondered if one of them was his girlfriend. So far, I’d seen no evidence of it. I could tell from the look on Angus’s face that they were all asking about his mysterious, dangerous brother that nobody had ever heard of before.

  Thursday lunchtime, while he was being questioned again, Angus had locked eyes with me. Even from across the room, I’d felt the anger in that glare. So, I’d done the same thing I’d done all week, every time my little brother deigned to look at me for more than half a second, I smiled. It wasn’t a nice kind of smile. And it had been just enough to make Angus finally snap.

  He’d slammed down his fork and stood up, garnering a lot of attention. Then he’d pointed at me and yelled at the girl hovering at the end of his table, “Why don’t you go and
ask him?” Then Angus had grabbed his bag and stormed out, slamming the lunchroom doors open so hard, they’d hit the wall with a bang.

  That was two days ago, and Angus hadn’t said a word to, or about, me since. The aura of hostility emanating from his shut bedroom door and my mother’s hovering, combined with the pile of homework I’d had dumped on me my first week of college, had me stressed out. I was itching for a cigarette, but Mum had found my stash when she’d tried to wash my jeans. She had not been happy. Hence the hovering.

  If it hadn’t been pitch-dark outside, and cold besides, I’d have blown off steam by practising with my sword. I needed to get out of the house, to be alone for a while. I’d forgotten how claustrophobic it was living with other people. When I’d been living with Dad, he’d been gone a lot of the time, either at his day-job as a mechanic or out hunting. I’d learned to fend for myself, and I’d grown used to being alone. I didn’t mind it. I liked the freedom.

  So, instead of grabbing my sword, I grabbed my jacket and called to Mum that I was going for a walk. She came scrambling out of the kitchen with a cup in her hand, tea sloshing over the edges. Her eyes were wide with worry.

  “Wait! Ruairidh!”

  I paused with the door half open. “What?”

  She flicked her eyes over me quickly, and I realised she was looking for my sword. I remembered back when Angus and I were too young to understand what it was Dad did when he disappeared late in the evening. He used to say he was just going for a walk and he’d be back soon. It was code for, ‘I’m going hunting. Don’t worry about me.’

  The way she was staring at me, I knew Mum had thought I was using the same code and that I was going out to hunt demons. She seemed to relax a bit, though, when she saw I wasn’t carrying my sword. There was no way she could know I had a dagger strapped to my leg in an ankle sheath.

  Some of the panic leaked from her eyes, and she said, “Put your jacket on before you go out, will you? It’s no good to you dangling from your hand like that.”