by Leia Stone
Shadow Angel (Book 1)
Copyright © 2022 by Leia Stone and Julie Hall
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the written permission from the authors, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN (paperback): 978-1-951578-17-6
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-951578-16-9
ISBN (hardcover special edition): 978-1-954510-09-8
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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
Books by Leia Stone
Books by Julie Hall
CHAPTER
ONE
The subway car slowly rocked as I leaned my head back against the window, music blasting out of my earbuds, rattling my brain. My body ached so badly I felt seventy instead of seventeen. Today’s shift at Sal’s Diner had been a long one. I felt like I had bruises on the bottoms of my feet, I’d been standing on them so long. My body might have hated my ten-hour Saturday shifts, but my wallet loved them. I’d made a hundred bucks in tips today. That was groceries for a week for Gran and me.
“Hey, screw you, man!” a lady shrieked, and I yanked one of the earbuds from my ear, suddenly alert.
I flicked my gaze to the back of the car, where a big dude was hassling some lady and her kid. I glanced the other way and realized I was alone—just me and some douchebag trying to touch a lady holding her infant.
Reaching into my purse, I pulled out my purple can of pepper spray. Gran got it for me when I was twelve and started taking the city bus to school. I’d grown up in Brooklyn but never actually had to use this. Sometimes the mere act of pointing it at someone would make them change their behavior. I’d done that twice.
I stared at the guy, hoping he was going to back down so I wouldn’t need to insert myself into this drama. I was too tired for this crap.
“I said what’s your name?” the guy growled, grabbing the lady’s arm and not letting go. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. His voice didn’t sound normal. It was scratchy and animalistic.
Flicking the safety off the nozzle of the pepper spray, I pulled it from my purse just as the woman looked at me. Her face was marred with fear, and my heart jackknifed in my chest.
Okay, this was happening.
I stood, planting both feet onto the floor, and aimed the purple spray can. “Let her go, man. We don’t want trouble.”
He whipped in my direction, and I stared into… two glowing red eyes?
What the heck?
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the illusion. I’d woken up early today to take care of Gran and got her settled before my one p.m. shift. The train from Brooklyn to Manhattan was a long haul. I was a night owl; sleeping in was my thing. But clearly only five hours of sleep was getting to me.
I swallowed hard when he let go of her arm and she bolted from him, clutching her baby to her chest, over to me. Once she was safely behind me, I readied myself to pull the trigger on this thing if he took even one step closer.
I realized that I would essentially be gassing myself as well, but we could pull the emergency brake or…
I blinked rapidly. His eyes weren’t going back to normal.
Tatum, you need more sleep and less Red Bull!
The man widened his stance. Cocking his head unnaturally to the side, he inhaled deeply through his nose.
Dude was tall. Like Do-you-play-basketball-professionally? tall. But also big, like Do-you-snack-on-small-children-for-fun? big. I was pretty sure if nothing came out of this expired purple can when I pushed the button, then this was how I died. Saving a woman and her baby.
There were worse ways to go, I guess, but seventeen was young. I was hoping to travel the world, get married to the man of my dreams, and open my own restaurant before I died, but here we were.
“Shadowling,” he growled, his lips curling into a snarl.
Dude was high, that was the only explanation. High on some new drug that made his eyes glow.
“Don’t. Move,” I shouted in a voice I imagined a cop would use.
He was grinning and the baby started to cry behind me, and now I was sweating like a pig.
The train announced the next stop, and my body nearly sagged with relief. The second the doors opened, the lady and I would get out and push the help button on the platform.
There was a blur of movement to my left, and then the guy launched himself at me. One second he was standing twenty feet away, the next he was barreling down on me.
“Spray him!” the lady shouted behind me, and I squeezed the button, praying that crushed-up jalapeño juices, or whatever they put in these things, would explode into his open, snarling mouth.
A red stream shot from the purple canister, and I waved my hand in a wide arc covering the man’s entire face.
Success!
He fell backward, coughing and sputtering just as the train started to stop. My eyes burned as the mist made its way to the back of the car. I pulled my shirt up to cover my mouth and tried to take small breaths.
The train stopped just as the lady and I began to cough. Peering behind me, I glanced down at the man to make sure he wasn’t going to attack. He was on one knee, scratching at his face and wheezing as the doors finally flew open.
Tears wept from the corners of my eyes as I made sure the woman and her baby got off first. There was an older couple about to get on, and I shook my head, hoping the alarm on my face conveyed the situation. They took one look at the man on the ground and backed up as I stepped off and spun around to make sure he wou
ldn’t follow us off.
When my gaze landed on the would-be assailant, the breath hitched in my burning throat.
What. The. Hell. Is. That?
The man was still on one knee, coughing into his shirt, but on his back was…
No. I’m tired. This isn’t real.
The inky black creature attached to the man’s back looked up at me, and I stumbled backward. Semi-translucent and humanoid, the monster was more shadow than corporeal. But even so, it was a shadow with horns, and claws that were dug into the man’s shoulders. A barbed tail whipped back and forth behind the pair.
The man lifted his head and glared at me. Red eyes blazed from both man and beast.
I was paralyzed in fear, locked in my position with a layer of sweat chilling my skin as the doors slid closed between us.
“You really saved us. Thank you,” the lady said, pulling my gaze away from the now retreating train and whatever the heck that thing was.
No more horror movies for me. Gran was right, they were putting scary thoughts in my brain. I needed to watch more cartoons with cuddly talking animals. I would totally be down for hallucinating about talking bears or giraffes.
I turned to the woman, whose eyes were red rimmed, probably from my accidentally macing the both of us. My heart was thumping, but I tried not to let my fear show on my face. I didn’t need to freak this poor lady out more than she already was.
“I’m just glad you and your baby are okay.”
She looked on the verge of tears, and now that I saw her losing it, my throat started to tighten with emotion.
How close was she to getting attacked? I shivered just thinking about it.
Without warning, she pulled me into a hug, her arm going around me with her baby pressed between us.
“Seriously. Thank you,” she murmured in my ear.
I reached around her and squeezed, looking down at the little baby blowing spit bubbles between us, oblivious to what had just gone down.
When the woman pulled back, I really examined her face and realized she was older than I had previously thought. Maybe in her late thirties? Fine wrinkles kissed the edges of her eyes.
“How far do you live? Let me get you a cab,” she offered, and started to lead me away from the subway, but I waved her off.
“No really, this is my stop. I’m just off Prospect.”
Concern etched into her features. “You sure?”
I nodded.
Her gaze went to the pepper spray can in my hand and then to my grease-stained apron, which I still had on from work.
“I… thanks again,” she said, and I nodded.
We’d shared something serious. One of us should probably call the cops and report the dude, but I was too tired, so I was going to leave that to her discretion.
With a final wave, I went left toward my street, and she went right to hail a cab.
I looked over my shoulder and realized I didn’t even ask her name, but something about what I’d done, saving her from God-knows-what, made me feel good inside. My heroic deed nestled deep inside my soul, and I smiled knowing that I’d made a positive difference in someone’s life.
By the time I spun back around to face forward, I was on a collision course. I knocked into a lady’s shoulder, muttering an apology for not paying attention, and then looked up into her eyes.
Red.
I stumbled backward, holding in a gasp as I blinked rapidly. Glancing back at me—her eyes now a perfectly normal shade of blue—she scowled and muttered a choice word before moving on.
Okay, no more Supernatural, it was SpongeBob before bed or nothing.
I ran the rest of the way to the apartment I shared with Gran, hoping to push this night from my memory and sleep for twelve hours straight.
CHAPTER
TWO
The sound of something shattering jolted me awake from nightmares of shadow creatures and red eyes.
Gran!
The thought of her hurting herself took me from out-cold to fully awake in an instant. I tried to jump out of my makeshift bed on the couch, but the blankets were twisted around me, suctioned to my legs like tentacles. With a yelp, I flopped to the floor in a heap.
“Don’t touch anything. I’m coming,” I called, and quickly worked to untangle myself.
Once on my feet, it only took a handful of rushed steps to get from the couch to the small galley kitchen, where Gran was hunched over picking up pieces of porcelain shards from a broken teacup.
Dropping to my knees, I moved to grab as many bits of the shattered cup as possible. I didn’t want her to cut herself again. Gran was only in her early sixties, but arthritis had started to set into her fingers, stealing some of her dexterity.
“I got this, Gran. Don’t worry about it.”
“So clumsy. I’m sorry I woke you, sweetie.” Using a chair as leverage, she pushed herself to her feet; her knee joints cracked and popped like popcorn.
I frowned. She used to be so mobile. Less than a year ago she was doing yoga in front of the TV and hauling groceries up to our fourth floor walk-up. Now her back was hunched like someone twenty years her senior, and she barely made it out of our apartment.
I glanced at the wall clock. Six thirty-six. Ouch. I only got about four hours of sleep. A far cry from the twelve I was hoping for, but that much rest was wishful thinking anyway. Gran was an early riser.
“It’s okay. I was basically awake anyway.” A lie, but only a white one.
Gran puckered her lips, seeing through me easily. The woman was sharp, except when she wasn’t, which was happening more frequently than I’d like lately.
“What would you like for breakfast?” I asked as I dumped the porcelain bits into the garbage.
She waved me off. “I can feed myself.”
I held my breath, only releasing it when she went for the milk and box of cereal rather than eggs or oatmeal. She used to be an amazing cook, but with her mind going in and out these days, the kitchen was a dangerous place.
Gran settled into the two-person bistro table adjacent to the kitchen, and I noticed a pink roller still in her brown and gray-streaked hair.
“How was work last night?” she asked. She held her spoon over her bowl of raisin bran, waiting for me to respond before digging in.
A vision of the man on the subway with the red eyes and shadow creature on his back flashed through my mind. I forced the memory of my hallucinations—most likely brought on from sleep deprivation and too many horror movies—from my mind. Stress made Gran’s early onset dementia worse. Today was a good morning, and I wanted to enjoy it. Besides, the only issue to come out of last night was that I needed a new can of pepper spray, so I wasn’t going to worry her over nothing.
I shrugged and forced a smile. “Same old, same old.” Grabbing my own bowl of cereal, I joined her at the table. “Did you sleep well?”
She huffed out a breath. “I wish you’d let me sleep on the couch,” she said rather than answer.
“What? And give up that prime real estate in front of the TV? Never!”
The truth was, I missed having a bedroom. Our old apartment wasn’t much, but it was home and at least I’d had my own space. But this place was cheaper, which meant we could afford it, so I liked it well enough.
I enjoyed a solid half hour of conversation with Gran before she started to slip and called me Emery, my mother’s name. I didn’t correct her. I’d learned that only confused and upset her. To Gran, realizing I wasn’t her was like losing her all over again.
“If the darkness eclipses the light, we’re all lost.” Gran looked into my eyes with so much terror that chills ran down my spine. “You have to hide Tatum, or he’ll come for her one day.”
I nodded, trying not to cry. “Okay, I will.”
Sometimes I played into her delusions just to keep her calm. I had no idea what she was talking about, but in her own mind she believed every word she said, and that caused my blood to ice over.
I spent the rest of my
day like I usually did: looking over bills I couldn’t pay, calming Gran down when she got confused or scared, running quick errands, and trying—unsuccessfully—to get my homeschooling done.
I’d dropped out of public school at the beginning of the year to take care of Gran full-time. At this rate, it was going to be a miracle if I graduated next month, but not finishing high school wasn’t what kept me awake at night.
Gran’s episodes were getting worse. Her outbursts about darkness and light and some make-believe shadow war were getting more explosive by the day. Everything I’d read on the internet about paranoia in dementia patients said it was a sign of the late stages of the illness.
I didn’t know how long I could keep this up. She needed around-the-clock care that I couldn’t provide, but I didn’t have the money to hire someone for when I wasn’t there. If I took her to the doctor, I knew they’d put her in a state-run facility. Gran was the only family I had; it had always been us against the world. I just couldn’t see that happen to her. I intended to keep us together as long as I could.
Five o’clock rolled around all too soon. My feet started to ache at the mere thought of being on them for eight hours straight again, but it was a paycheck, so I wasn’t going to complain… much.
I made sure Gran took her bath, got an early dinner, and was settled in front of the television in her bedroom before I’d have to leave. When she wasn’t looking, I also unplugged the stove so she couldn’t use it—thank goodness it was electric instead of gas. When I’d gotten home last night, I’d found a bowl of cottage cheese with a fork in it sitting in the microwave. If she’d turned it on, the metal fork could have started a fire. The thought of her in a fire stabbed a spike of dread right in my heart.
