The Shadow Project

by Cecilia Dominic

  I shook my head. "By who? My mother doesn't have command over the dark Fae creatures, and I don't have any family or friends among them."

  "No one in the Unseelie Court?" Lawrence asked, his tone teasing. "Not even a former lover or flame?"

  "No one," I repeated, "and I have yet to have a lover who would do anything so kind for me." I refrained from mentioning I only took lovers when I wanted a good shag. Otherwise emotions got messy, and they'd just turn on me, anyway. It was the price of royalty—use others before they could use you.

  "Sounds like a lonely existence," he said.

  I turned toward the window. "I don't know that you're one to judge. I haven't seen any evidence of significant others in your life."

  "I'm close to the Graveses," he argued. "In fact, I'm Kestrel's godfather. But those of us in the lab don't socialize much outside of it. We've got too many secrets to be comfortable."

  "But you have Ted," I observed. "A journalist. How do you keep your secrets around him?" Seriously, now we were having this conversation?

  Lawrence shrugged. "He's different. We've known each other for so long we don't need to talk enough for me to worry about secrets slipping out. Plus, he has his own. We trust each other."

  Or you trade secrets, I wanted to say. I tried to remember who had first broken open the case about Chronic Lycanthropy Syndrome. I'd read about it on a medical news site, but it had been a few years. Something tickled my mind—had it been in Atlanta? And could the thing John Graves had been referring to be news of the new disorder, not the viral vector sample? Had they been trying to alert the public?

  That didn't quite fit into my theories, but as a scientist, I knew I had to consider all the possibilities. At this point, I was still in the land of speculation.

  Raleigh dug his claws into my legs, and Lawrence swerved hard, making me bump my elbow against the door. I directed my attention to the road in front of us but didn't see anything.

  "Did you see that?" he asked.

  "No, I was looking out the side. Did I see what?"

  "A car crossed the median and was coming right at us. But then they corrected and went on their way." He checked the rearview mirror. "At least I think they did."

  "Probably some idiot on their phone." I soothed Sir Raleigh, who turned in circles, his nose in the air. "At least I hope." Then, of all the inconvenient things, my stomach growled.

  "So… When's dinner?" The clock on the dash said it was almost ten o'clock.

  "I don't know of anything around here that will still be serving." Lawrence frowned. "Wait, there's a Vietnamese place, but they switch to takeout only after nine. Does that sound okay? They use mostly organic ingredients and have some vegan dishes to cater to the neighborhood."

  "That sounds great." My stomach agreed.

  He gave me the name of the place, and I pulled up the menu on my phone. Soon enough, we had bags of delicious-smelling pho and banh mi, and I had to keep Sir Raleigh from crawling into them to investigate.

  When we got back to the hotel, I was ready to wish Lawrence a good night, but he reminded me of Cimex's command.

  "We'll eat in your room," he said. "Then I'll stand guard while you sleep."

  Great. At least I'd managed to score a chocolate dessert so the night wouldn't be a total loss. Could I even sleep with a gargoyle nearby?

  After dinner, Lawrence left me alone for a few minutes so we could get into nightclothes. I wished for a moment that Selene still had his room. In spite of our differences, I wouldn't have minded talking to her. The desire surprised me, as did the hope that Kestrel wouldn't hate Selene too much for occupying Corey's attention. The two of them could be good for each other—Selene with her womanly wiles and secrets, and Kestrel with her innocence and cleverness. Yet another human dyad that would make me feel left out, but that's all right, I was used to it. Let them screw each other up.

  I typically slept in a gauzy nightgown, but that wouldn't do with Lawrence nearby, so I put on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts I'd gotten from the hotel gift shop. It amused me to have "Peach" emblazoned across my rear end. When Lawrence came into the room wearing a pair of black satin pajamas and a dark red robe that he'd tied but which left the planes of his pecs showing, I had to pretend really hard I wasn't impressed by his physique. He'd showered, and his hair curled with the damp. The look he gave me said he wasn't immune to my charms, and the thought flickered through my brain that I wondered if he'd be into a one-night stand. But no, that would make things too awkward. More awkward than our current gawking at each other, to be sure.

  "You can hang out in your room with the door open," I finally managed to say. "You don't have to stay in here. I'm a kicker, so you don't want to be in bed with me." No matter how much I wondered what it would be like to be in bed with him.

  "No, I promised I wouldn't leave you alone." He sat in the chair by the desk.

  Sir Raleigh hopped down from the bed and onto his lap.

  "And now I have company."

  "Traitor," I murmured, but the sound of Sir Raleigh's purring vibrated through the air between us and soothed me. I turned off the light, rolled over, and went to sleep. And straight into a dream.

  I was walking through an unfamiliar place. It was the time of night when everything looked gray, and there's just barely enough light to make stuff out, even for a Fae. Humans would be blind, but I could at least see shapes, if not textures or variations in colors. Still, I felt disoriented, and I moved slowly, carefully placing my feet since I couldn't see the ground, which sloped upward.

  A need drove me to keep moving. I had to warn someone of something, but I didn't know of what, or to whom I carried the warning. I only knew I needed to continue, to push through the fog and fear.

  Stone met my hand, and the familiar energy of the standing stones flowed through me. I placed both my palms and my forehead on the rock, tears of relief running down my face and making warm splashes on my fingers. I knew where I was. And I could feel a sliver of opening in the metaphysical wall between here and Faerie.

  Physicists talked about parallel dimensions, but experiments couldn't show them a full one. I was from one, and I couldn't explain how to reach it, only that something we did in certain places where the barriers thinned or at certain times of the year when the veil fluttered. Now a doorway opened, but the energy shoved me backward. I stumbled and landed on my knees. A bright light made me look up to see my grandmother.

  Shakespeare had called her Tatiana. Others referred to her as Maeve. I knew her as Grandmother, which was as much an honorific term as a description of relation. She looked down at me, her ageless face stern.

  "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

  I looked around. Her glow illuminated the stones in my familiar clearing. "Kneeling."

  She shook her head, apparently not finding my answer suitable.

  "No, child. What are you doing in that world, in that far-away land?"

  "I've been fulfilling my mission. I'm ensuring that they don't find out the truth about us." Not that it had come up all that much, but at least I was trying.

  "And how are you doing so?"

  "Mostly by changing the subject. And I'm trying to find out how the so-called expert knows so much about us." There, that should help.

  "I have a new task for you."

  Great. I didn't allow my dismay to show, but she must have felt it because she then said, "I know the desire of your heart is to return home. And I have heard your pleas, even if your mother thinks she hides them from me."

  Interesting—"your mother" rather than "my daughter." And why would she hide my pleas from my grandmother?

  "What do you need me to do, Grandmother?"

  "There is a plot against me…"

  I snorted. It came out before I could catch it. "There's always someone plotting against you."

  "I am aware of this." The corners of her eyes crinkled, the closest she'd get to a smile without Faerie wine. "But this plot involves those close to the t
hrone. I need you to determine who or what is involved."

  "How can I do that if I'm not in Faerie? Or…" Hope exploded in my chest and I scrambled to my feet. "Am I being let back in?"

  "No, I'm afraid not. You must complete your current mission first. But keep your ears open. What happens in my realm has echoes in the one you're living in." She started to fade, and I fell to my knees again, grabbing for her dress. My hands passed through her, and I cried out.

  …and woke myself up to find a large winged creature standing in my room.

  19

  "What in the ever-living Fae?" I asked and scrambled backward. I turned on the light, not believing my eyes. Lawrence stood there, but it wasn't him. But it was. My mind ping-ponged between the two—was-wasn't, was-wasn't.

  I'd seen shifters, plenty of them, but this was my first gargoyle in ages. He still wore his silk pajama bottoms, but rather than being loose, they stretched and strained over his bulging thighs and—oh, my. I hastily slide my glance upward to his stone-colored abs and pecs, all clear of hair. He looked like a statue of some sort of demon, complete with horns and tusks.

  "Are you all right?" he asked. His voice had become deeper, more resonant.

  Sir Raleigh slithered out from between the bed and night-stand and walked over to him, sniffing his feet, which had also grown and sported mean-looking claws, as did his now giant hands.

  "Uh, yeah, I'm fine. What made you—?" I waved at him.

  "You cried out and sounded so terrified and sad, this happened."

  "Wait—I did that?"

  He nodded. "Did you not know that my people used to be the guards for yours?"

  Okay, score one for him. Did he always have to be the damn expert? Still…

  "No, I did not. That's interesting." And made the betrayal that had maimed Rhys that much worse.

  "So, there are certain things…" He shrugged, and he grimaced. "One moment, please." He folded his large, black leathery wings and walked into his room. He had to duck to get through the door. A groan split the air, and I clutched a pillow so it wouldn't resonate so much in my chest. I didn't follow to see if he was okay—shifters liked their privacy, whatever kind they were.

  "Mrowr?" Sir Raleigh asked. He leaped on to the bed beside me, and I noticed he'd had another growth spurt.

  "You keep that up, you're going to be too big to fit on my shoulder," I told him, but I appreciated the distraction. Then the noise stopped, and the silence that rushed to fill it pressed on my ears.

  "Lawrence, are you okay?"

  No answer.

  "Son of a Fae," I murmured and hopped out of bed. I found Lawrence sprawled out on the floor of his hotel room, his arms spread out like wings, and his satin pajama pants clinging and pooling in all the right places. Although he no longer had the large chest and stone abs of a gargoyle, I couldn't help but notice he must have spent some quality time in the gym. Concern made me frown. In spite of his apparent physical strength, something had laid him low. What could have done that? And what would help him?

  “Hades. You’re annoying, but I don’t want you to die!” An unfamiliar emotion—doubt—crept into my chest as the unsettling realization hit me that he knew more about me than I did about him, about gargoyles in general. I knew my human and Fae anatomy, and I'd treated most paranormal creatures in my day—plenty of other shifters, definitely, since they tended to get in trouble. But no gargoyles. Since he’d shifted into a humanoid form, would his needs be different?

  I had to act quickly, or soon it wouldn't matter. I was the physician, and he needed my help. I felt for a pulse, which I found, although faint. A quick examination didn't reveal anything obvious was amiss. Did he have some sort of disorder? Again, I wished I knew more about gargoyles and what happened after they shifted. Perhaps this was normal. But wouldn't he have told me so I would know he'd need recovery time?

  I made a quick call to Selene's room and woke her.

  "What is it?" she asked. "And where did you go tonight?"

  "To a club. Met a couple of vampires. Got chased by the soul-eater again." I shuddered. "But that's not important. Get Corey. Something is wrong with Lawrence."

  She quickly arrived with Corey in tow, his golden eyes full of concern.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  My face heated, and I hoped they didn't think my blush indicated something too exciting had been going on.

  "I had a nightmare, and he shifted into his gargoyle form," I said. "Then he shifted back. I heard a long groan, then nothing, and found him like this."

  Corey also did a quick exam. Lawrence didn't move.

  "Is this normal?" I asked. "Do gargoyles pass out and need recovery after shifting?"

  "Not usually," Corey told me. "I've only seen him shift a couple of times, and it's impressive. He doesn't ever seem the worse for wear. You're the doctor—medical doctor—can't you make sure he's all right? Do some sort of exam?"

  "I can try, but this far away from home, I'm very limited."

  Home, wherever that was. In truth, I didn't want to get too close to Lawrence through an energy exam. I may find confirmation of what I suspected, but I hated the invasion of privacy it could entail. But I had to do something. His breath had become shallow, and his skin clammy.

  I cupped his face and resisted the impulse to smooth my thumbs over his jaw bones. They were nice when he wasn't talking. I closed my eyes and opened myself to what his body wanted to tell me.

  Of course, the first thing was his physical attraction to me. That hadn't been hidden when he was in gargoyle form. Not one bit.

  Then, the next layer—anxiety. Not guilt, though. If he'd had any part in the vector being stolen, he didn't regret it at all. Interesting.

  I continued to dig and tried not to pay attention to the stray thoughts and memories that floated around in the energy fields of most people, either paranormals or mundanes. Then I got to the source of the issue—something in his stomach.

  What was it, though? Some sort of toxin. It had a sickly greenish energy, and I recalled the mixed drinks he'd had. I'd have some questions for Ashlee and Rae once I saw them again. While he'd digested the drinks, the energy residue of whatever had been in them had gotten caught between his pelvic and solar plexus energy centers. I nudged it along, and it exited his body with a long, loud fart.

  Everyone recoiled. Whatever it had been, it was powerful enough with a stench of rotten eggs and…something I couldn't quite place. Hmmm… How had it gotten into him? The vampire club? They had seemed odd, but not murderous. Well, beyond the typical vampire issues. In the food at dinner? I guessed it was possible.

  His skin had returned to its normal temperature, his breathing to steady, and his pulse to strong. Finally, after I'd lost count of my breaths, his eyelids fluttered, and he stirred.

  "Take it easy," I said. "Don't try to get up too quickly."

  He didn't pay attention to me and struggled to raise himself to his elbows. He finally focused on me, then looked at Corey and Selene. "What happened?" he asked, his voice thick.

  "You were poisoned," I said. "What do you remember?"

  He managed to sit, and we helped maneuver him to the bed, where he sat with his back against the wall and propped up with pillows. "I remember being at the club. Then dinner. Some sort of discussion. Then you cried out in your sleep, and…" He trembled. "I had to shift. Something made me. Something in your voice."

  "What in my voice?" I asked.

  "You sounded so frightened and sad." He rubbed his eyes. "It activated the protective side of my personality, and my inner gargoyle came out."

  "How romantic," Selene mouthed. I almost kicked her.

  "Right," I said. "You mentioned that your people used to protect mine. But I don't remember any of that in Fae lore."

  "It was a long time ago. I don't know what happened to make the arrangement stop."

  "This is all lovely," Corey broke in. "But we need to know who tried to kill you, Mate. And with what."

  "So
mething that wouldn't take effect until he shifted," I said, finally putting it together. "When was the last time you did, Lawrence?"

  "At the last new moon," he said. "I go flying when the sky is darkest."

  "So that was, what, two weeks ago?" I asked. "Crap. It could have been at any time. Did you have meals with anyone? Go out with anyone besides Ted?"

  He nodded. "I ate at the lab several nights as we were preparing for your visit. We got takeout. Anyone could have put something in the food."

  "Wait a second," Corey said. "How? The only people there were you, me, Cimex, and the Graveses and none of us would hurt you."

  "Except it seems that someone tried to," I pointed out. "Do you remember anything about trying to change, Lawrence? Anything that could help us figure out what they gave to you?"

  "I felt like I was trying to shift against a tide, like it wanted me to stay trapped in my gargoyle body forever." He looked down at his very human hands, which in this form, had lovely long, tapered fingers. "I had to fight to come out of it. Like when I was a fledgling."

  "Is that a young gargoyle?" Selene asked.

  "Yes, after my first shift. It happens to all of us—the temptation to stay that way. But when we do, we end up turning into the thing we hate being compared to the most—stone animals doomed to live in caves or on top of roofs."

  "And what about this time?" I asked.

  "It seems like a very gentle way to ensure I don't get too involved with whatever's going on," he said. I had to agree. My suspicion about his activities with John Graves seemed unfounded. Perhaps I'd misinterpreted the notes. It had been known to happen before, especially when my mind was on something else.

  "Do you have any enemies outside the lab?" Selene asked. "Or even any disgruntled employees?"

  "No." Lawrence shook his head. "I mostly spent time with the animals."

  "Any incensed pet parents?" Corey asked.

  "No, not that I know of." He shrugged. "Sorry I'm not being much help."

  "That's all right," I said. "Let me ponder for a few minutes and see what I can come up with." Not that it was my responsibility to figure out his enemies. But he must have at least one, and evidence pointed more and more at one of his colleagues, someone he trusted. Was now the time to confess I'd snooped and ask about John Graves?