The Order of Shadows

by Tess Adair

  Jude glanced down. She was still holding Eliana’s hand, and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “Elli?” she said softly, bending down. “Elli, can you hear me?”

  Slowly, groggily, Eliana’s eyes came open. Eventually they settled on Jude’s face.

  “Hi, there,” she said, her voice faint. “Did we win?”

  “We did,” said Jude. She could feel her own strength waning fast. She hadn’t felt tired while she held the cast, but now that it was gone, the rest of the fight leading up to it began to take its toll. “You were instrumental.”

  A half-smile broke over Eliana’s face. “Don’t patronize me, now.”

  “I’m not!”

  “She’s not,” said Alexei. “For starters, I used your bow. And, uh—well, Jude, I’m honestly not sure what you were doing, but—”

  “I used your strength for my cast,” she said, meeting Eliana’s gaze. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Eliana blinked deliriously at her. “Glad to be of service.”

  Right at that moment, the sound of forty-odd footsteps rounded the corner and burst into the amphitheater.

  It was a group of newly minted Order Adepts, all led by Hugh Knatt, carrying a giant crossbow. They thundered down the stairs, searching for the fight.

  Knatt came to a stop a few feet away from them, gaping open-mouthed at the heirophid that lay broken on the floor. A dozen feet away from it, the blonde woman was tending to Clément.

  “Is the fight already over?” he asked, staring around at Jude and Alexei.

  “Afraid so,” said Alexei, standing up.

  “Ah.” Knatt slowly lowered his weapon, looking almost disappointed. “Well, is there anything we can do?”

  “We’ve got wounded,” Alexei answered. “Janssen’s over there with Clément, and we’ve got Adept Blake here. There may be others, but—well, apart from us, I’m not sure who else made it.”

  Knatt nodded, then motioned to some of the others beside him. “You four, check the room for survivors, and call out if you find any. You lot, go and tend to the Seers. And the rest of you, come help Miss Blake get to the medical wing.”

  Jude stood up and caught his gaze. “I’m going with her, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course,” said Knatt, nodding. “I’ll come and find you when I can. I suspect I’m going to want to hear about what happened here.”

  Jude nodded earnestly. “Absolutely.”

  Knatt glanced around the room once more, concern growing on his face. After a moment, he fixed Alexei with a solemn stare.

  “Mr. Marin,” he said, carefully. “Where is Logan?”

  It was the smell of blood that led her. Ulric’s blood, she was almost certain. It didn’t quite smell human anymore. But then again, Logan’s own blood had never smelled quite human.

  She followed it through the labyrinth beneath the building, winding around corners and confusing her sense of space. She was certain she was following them out, but it felt like she was following them deeper in, deeper down. Either way, the following came easy.

  Just as she began to wonder if there might not be any end to her path, she ran right into a heavy metal door with a heavier metal lock on it. The lock was broken; the door swung wide.

  On the other side, the blood scent hit like a crescendo. Glancing up, she could see that she’d come out under some kind of terrace, the grounds cascading away into the darkness. She smiled at the irony: it was the same balcony where she’d shared a cigarette with Casimir Volkov.

  A hundred yards ahead, a glimmer of movement caught her eye. Casimir Volkov stood there, his back to her, flanked on either side by his monstrous Bound. All three of them looked like they were shimmering under the starlight.

  She took off at a gallop, heading straight for them. The distance closed quickly, and she found herself almost upon them, barreling at a breakneck pace—

  Suddenly, she slammed into an invisible and unforgiving barrier. The force of it nearly knocked her backward. With effort, she shook away the shock and pain and turned back to her target.

  Her eyes met Volkov’s insistent, unblinking gaze. A smile unfurled on his face, contorting his features.

  “Henrietta. Delighted you could join us.” Taking a step forward, he pressed his hand into the air—or, rather, into the barrier, causing it to glisten and glimmer, revealing its edges. “You’ll have to forgive my manners, but I’m afraid I can’t invite you in at the moment.”

  Logan stepped as close to the barrier as she could and offered him a scowl. “Too afraid to take me on yourself?”

  “Henrietta,” he said, making a tsk-tsk sound. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you? Now that we’re such good friends.”

  Logan raised her right eyebrow at him. “Wouldn’t I? You killed Atherton right in front of me.”

  Volkov let out a huff of air, sounding exasperated with her. “Come now, don’t try and tell me you actually gave a shit about that old windbag, did you?”

  “It’s not about whether I liked him. It’s about the whole murder thing.”

  At this, Volkov gave her a leering smile. “Aye, there’s the rub, isn’t it?” He trailed his hand down the shimmering barrier, bringing it parallel to his face, which was now as close to hers as it could come. “The murder of it all?”

  Against her will, Logan grimaced, remembering the Mark of the Beast. Atherton had sacrificed his own at least once, to the best of her knowledge. If Volkov was a killer, so was Atherton.

  Volkov saw her hesitation and chuckled.

  “You know, don’t you? You know what that bad old man did.”

  Setting her jaw, she met his eyes. “Doesn’t change what you did.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. Killing is killing, of course. And yet…you’ve killed, too, haven’t you? In the heat of battle, of course, but killing is killing. So, tell me, summoner, are we all damned just the same?”

  While he leered at her, she shifted her weight and put out her right hand, testing the barrier that had nearly knocked her down.

  “Never said I wasn’t,” she answered with a shrug. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the movement of her hand, and a faint shimmer.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” said Volkov, his tone gentle. “I don’t mean to condemn you.”

  “You don’t?” More shimmer, more shine.

  “Of course not. I want you to join me, Henrietta.”

  That’s new, she thought. She let her surprise show on her face, so her hand would remain unseen.

  “And why would I do that?” There it is. Her hand found purchase. She felt a strange, unnatural cold begin to envelop it as it pushed through.

  “Because you’re like me.” He sounded eminently satisfied with himself. “You know what the Order of Shadows is like, and you hate them as much as I do.” He sighed and tilted his head at her, gazing at her with concern. “But perhaps you aren’t ready. Perhaps you haven’t even faced your true nature yet.”

  Logan felt her pulse quicken, but she did nothing to show it. “What true nature is that?”

  “Oh, Henrietta, must we entertain the façade? There’s really no need for it. I already know you quite intimately.”

  Though she had the uncomfortable feeling that comes with unwanted exposure, Logan had the presence of mind to press the fingers of her left hand against the strange, slippery surface of the barrier. She nearly had it now.

  His gaze was fixed, unwavering, on her face.

  “You don’t know anything about me,” she answered easily.

  “Oh, but I do. I know you’re different from other people. Better than other people. Stronger, faster, cleverer…and a natural at eira summoning, even though you never did finish your training, did you?” His gaze was full of earnest admiration. “What I would have given to have met a woman like you when I was younger. I didn’t even know you were possible.”

  Logan laughed. “What are you talking about?”

  He shook his head, almost regretfully. “If it
will allow you to drop this silly pretense, then I’ll say it. I know you’re a half-demon, Henrietta.” He sounded breathless as he spoke. “In all of recorded history, there has never been anyone like you.” He paused to wink at her. “Well, perhaps I shouldn’t be too hasty. After all, what if you have a sister?”

  At that moment, her left hand found the purchase it sought. Logan returned his leering smile, keeping his attention on her face as her hand began to slip through the barrier.

  “You’re right. I am different.” She could feel the air flowing through her body. “Maybe even unique. Doesn’t that make you wonder if they ever tested this barrier…on someone like me?”

  He looked down and saw her hand already partway through the barrier. Her fingertips grazed the other side. He immediately took a few steps back, looking panic-stricken.

  “Zilla!” he commanded. “Zilla, do it, now!”

  Logan pushed hard on the barrier, feeling it slide away before her. What once was stone now turned to sand—packed tight, but movable, crumbling under her unbending will.

  “Master—I’m almost there—” Under the distortion of her inhuman voice, Zilla Ulric sounded panicked, too. Beside her, Rossi bellowed, flexing his misshapen shoulders, preparing for a fight.

  Logan’s hand burst through the barrier, and her skin met the cold night air on the other side. Again, she imagined the wind blowing through her, imagined the line of separation disappearing.

  End to end, she thought.

  At once, a passageway opened within her. She felt the wind hurtling toward it, ready to make her its conduit.

  She twisted her wrist, aiming at Volkov.

  Immediately, he coughed and clutched at his throat, stumbled and went down on one knee.

  “Master!” cried Zilla Ulric.

  Logan pushed her arm through with ease, holding Volkov where he was with her dangerous cast. She didn’t want to kill him, but it was all she could think of to hold him in place. The barrier came up to her shoulder now, so she tried to push her shoulder through. The resistance of the sand-like structure of the cast redoubled, now holding her in place.

  Beyond the barrier, Volkov clutched at his throat and tried to speak. His words came out in sharp gasps.

  “You wouldn’t—kill me—would you—Henrietta?”

  Logan’s resolve began to falter, and she tried slamming her shoulder against the barrier, but to no avail. Across from her, Rossi let out another scream. Then he barreled forward, throwing his body between Logan’s outstretched arm and Volkov’s choking body.

  At once, her cast shifted, hitting Rossi instead. Coughing but freed, Volkov stood upright.

  “It is ready!” Ulric cried. Her gaze narrowed in on Rossi as he fell to his knees.

  Logan breathed in the air, willed it to flow with greater force, willing her cast to stretch beyond the Bound—

  But Volkov had already turned away, crossing to Ulric and the hole she’d ripped in the sky. It shimmered, just like the barrier. Suddenly Logan understood what she had been doing: manipulating the space-magic of the barrier cast in order to find them an escape route.

  “Master—Savino, he is dying—”

  “Leave him.”

  Hearing Ulric’s words, Logan dropped the cast. Rossi slumped down, coughing and grabbing at his neck. He was hurt, but he was alive. After a moment, his black pit eyes looked up at her. She couldn’t read his expression with any certainty, but she guessed it was a look of confusion.

  “Savino, get up!”

  Though it was Ulric who spoke, Logan’s gaze turned back to Volkov. He locked eyes with her, and his expression was much easier: it was full of hope.

  “Soon,” he mouthed at her.

  Then he stepped forward into the breach, and he was gone. The others followed moments after.

  She felt her arm begin to droop, held up awkwardly by the barrier. She could feel its desire to close back up, to push her out. With no small amount of effort, she pulled herself backward, freeing her arm in one smooth motion.

  Out ahead of her, the shimmering breach shuddered and convulsed and disappeared.

  They could have gone anywhere in the world. This kind of barrier cast could be incredibly unpredictable. Though most people had entered somewhere in Brooklyn, technically the grounds, the castle, everything inside the bubble existed in an elsewhere space, located everywhere and nowhere all at once.

  She sighed and dropped her hands. The passageway had closed; he was out of her reach.

  It was time to return to the Order, and to see who was left standing.

  Old History

  Logan hadn’t yet made up her mind about this plan.

  She agreed that something needed to be done, but this particular course of action didn’t sit well with her.

  And yet…what else was there to do?

  Glancing down at her cell phone as she stepped out into the cloudy, blustery day, Logan saw a missed call from Marion Clément. Clément had temporarily assumed leadership of the Order of Shadows. During the catastrophe at the Summit, Clément had proven herself a capable leader, so Logan privately concurred that this was as good a decision as any. And yet…she still didn’t know how much Clément had known of her predecessor’s actions. Had she consented to his decision to sacrifice one of their own, or had he kept her in the dark? Logan could ask, but she might never know for sure. It made every single conversation with her feel tense and taut.

  It was almost like a game of chess, only she didn’t know for sure if the other side was playing the same game. She sighed when she saw the call. Whatever Clément had to say to her, it could wait.

  The heavy wooden front door opened behind her, and the hushed step of a canvas-and-rubber shoe sounded on the porch. She turned to see Knatt stepping through the door and shutting it firmly behind himself.

  As soon as she saw his face, the reality of what they were about to do hit her all over again.

  When the dust had cleared back at the Order, Logan had taken some time to herself, in that tiny little closet-like room, to think about what Volkov knew and how he knew it. Eventually, she realized there was only one person who could have told him.

  “Mr. Marin wishes to inform you that he didn’t come up here to babysit,” said Knatt, sounding beleaguered. “And Jude would like to remind us both, again, that she is over nineteen now, and therefore technically an adult.”

  Logan shrugged. “Right. So, did you want to drive, or—”

  “Absolutely not,” he answered immediately, giving the keys in his hand a quick shake before tossing them over to her.

  “Off we go, then,” she said as she opened up the driver’s side door and climbed inside. On the passenger’s side, Knatt climbed in, too.

  They drove in silence for a while. When they hit the freeway, Logan turned north automatically, her body remembering where to go before her brain could tell it.

  After all, she’d been up to visit Charles Logan a few times over the years. The only difference was that this time, they were bringing him home.

  Hey there! If you liked this novel and you’d like to get a FREE copy of the prequel novelette, Strange Love, as well as get notifications when the next Choronzon Chronicles novel is released, then click here to sign up for her mailing list: https://www.tessadair.com/jointhesummoning

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  About the Author:

  Tess Adair has lived in the Midwest and the Northeast, and currently resides in the Pacific Northwest. She enjoys discovering new cafes, making friends with cats, and not hiking. Follow her on her blog at: https://www.tessadair.com/thebodypolitic/