Shadowed Fire (Veil of Midnight Book 1)

by A. Vers

  “No matter how beautiful Chol may be…he is still our guest.”

  I wince at the veiled reminder. “Of course.” In other words, no fraternizing, befriending, or interacting outside of the professional sense.

  She dips her head and walks off, ushering Ms. Delancre and her guard, Erem, towards the parlor. I turn in slow motion to Nix and Chol.

  They recline against the banister on the stairs, speaking in soft voices.

  It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to shrug off my fascination for them, grab the required keys, and move off to the stairwell.

  As their protector, I must remain clear-headed and distant. We protect only. Nothing more. But staying distant is going to be damn near impossible unless I hide far away from them both. In a house as big as Midnight that shouldn’t be hard.

  I hope.

  With a sigh, I motion for Chol and Nix to follow me. They do so without speaking, and I pray they didn’t hear what Mother said. The last thing I need is a couple of fly-by-night demons telling the Void I have a soft spot for their kind. Talk about ruining an image.

  In my world, my image is my first line of defense. And possibly the only thing keeping me from being hunted like the beings I swore an oath to protect. If my secret ever gets out, there won’t be anyone in the Void who can protect me. Not even at Midnight.

  My best bet is to do my job and keep a distance until they leave because no one can ever know what I am.

  Not even two gorgeous demons.

  Chapter 2

  I slip down the hall past empty rooms and closed doors. Distant voices reach my ears at the second landing. Not angry. But fearful, maybe? I look up and down the hall.

  Empty.

  Tiptoeing closer, I weave a quick cloaking shield and press deeper into the wall where the manor’s wards will help to hide me.

  “We cannot thank you enough for allowing us to seek refuge here,” the voice is feminine and light through the cracked door.

  Ms. Delancre.

  “Of course. Midnight is available to anyone who needs it,” Father says.

  “When would you like to leave?” Mother asks.

  There’s a soft shift of fabric rubbing together. “Tonight, before it gets much later.”

  “A trip through the Void is hard enough, but at true nightfall… It is dangerous,” Father says. “Why so soon?”

  “It is imperative that we seek the Consulate’s assistance. I fear—I fear even your embassy will not protect my Chol for long.”

  Silence.

  “Then one of us will have to remain. Sayah cannot possibly—”

  “Please,” Ms. Delancre interjects, cutting Mother off. “It will only be for a few hours. If you both speak for us, if you could verify the danger… They will have to hear my plea.”

  “Sayah is an ambassador, Minet,” Father says into the quiet that follows. My shoulders straighten at his seemingly ready vote of confidence. “Besides, I can amplify the wards, and the guards will remain. Surely she can keep an eye on things for a few hours.”

  My happiness deflates as fast as it came. Babysit? They want me to babysit?

  A soft sigh floats through the narrow opening. Though I can’t see mother’s face, I know the expression that accompanies that sound. They rarely argue, but when they do…I’m always the cause behind it. “Then we leave in an hour. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back.”

  Chairs scrape on the hardwood, and I peel from the wall. I run back to my room, head spinning from the snapping of my shield as much as their words.

  After changing out of my stupid skirt and into gear, I haul the spare bed out of the storage room and roll it down the hall to Prince Chol’s suite. Could I have asked Aith? Sure.

  But after my moment of insanity earlier, it seems like a requirement to prove that I can do this. That I can ignore both males and shrug them off like any of the other residents.

  They are guests. Emissaries on their way topside, if the conversation I heard was right. All four of them are headed to Earth by way of the nearest convergence. And once they leave, I will never have to see them again. Simple.

  Smoothing my hair back into its half-assed ponytail, I knock on the Prince’s door.

  Footsteps reach my ears, and the sharp click of the lock follows. The panel opens cautiously onto a half-veiled face and almost black eyes.

  Erem’s dark gaze casts behind me, scouring the corridor. He pulls down the lower half of his cloak, revealing a strong jaw and thin mouth. His dark hair is longer than even Nix’s red waves, and it holds a slight curl in the shadows of his hood. “Yes?” he asks plainly.

  I motion to the bed. “I brought Nix the roll away.”

  Erem steps back. “Of course. Thank you.” His voice is almost relieved.

  I push the slim metal frame and mattress into the spacious main room of the suite, trying and failing not to act like I’m searching for its temporary owner. Who is nowhere in sight. And neither is Chol.

  My face falls before I can completely stop it. There goes my chance to test my theory. I shove away my strange discontent. “If there is anything else…” I start.

  Erem nods. “I am sure this will be fine.”

  With no other reason to stay, I head back downstairs and can’t deny the flutter of disappointment.

  Which is stupid. They’re demons, both of them.

  Cambions are bad enough on their own, seducing whomever--whenever they want. Just like their parents. And it doesn’t take much for someone to fall under the sway of their charms. Which definitely explains Chol’s unreasonable hotness.

  But Nix? Is there a demon sect with eyes and hair like his? And what are his abilities?

  Not knowing makes me nervous, and being nervous makes me angry. The only good thing about them being here is that they are in the embassy. And no matter what breed of supernatural you are, when you are inside our wards, you are on your best behavior. Period.

  The intelligent ones normally are anyway.

  The foyer is empty as I step off the last riser, so I make for the desk and sit down to finish logging our guests into the books. As I lift the quill, a familiar wallet chain glimmers out of my peripheral.

  Aith leans against the wall next to me. “So…” he begins, waiting.

  I glance up at the older drow elf. Today he is bedecked in the Midnight uniform of unrelieved blackness. One I don regardless of if I’m on duty or otherwise. In fact, short of a few really dark grey shirts, I don’t know if I own another color besides black.

  I offer an easy shrug, but inside my blood is hot and my stomach is in a strange fluttery knot.

  He raises a brow. “Succubi, right?”

  “Oh yeah. Marlec and Chol Delancre, to be exact.” You can’t miss the heavy sardonic edge to my voice.

  A low whistle spills from his lips. “The royal family?” he asks, eyes comically wide. “And how did we get lucky enough for them to choose Midnight?”

  I shake my head. “No idea,” I say, even though it’s not true. From the conversation upstairs, the Delancres are seeking temporary asylum. But I have no idea from what. Or more precisely, from whom.

  “Well, the others better be on their best behavior,” he grumbles, puzzling me.

  I turn in my chair and peer at him. “What do you mean?”

  He sighs. “Spoke to the guards. Even if they can tango with the Prince, I wouldn’t want to dance with either of the Hallows.”

  A shiver rolls through me. “Is that who they are? Hallows?”

  He gives a short incline of his head and his dark knot of hair bobs. “Can’t be anything else,” he says. “The hoods on those two are a dead giveaway. Hired assassins, both of them.”

  Fear overwhelms the remaining heat Chol and Nix spawned with their arrival.

  Hallows are the top of the top when it comes to killers. Any target you point them at they can take them out. Easily. And once you are part of that elite group, there is no way to be free from it short of death. But the fact both M
arlec and Chol have a Hallow apiece is not only terrifying but slightly insane. The kind of insane you get when you are out of options.

  My eyes dart over Chol’s precise handwriting. “So they are here for asylum…” I murmur without thinking.

  Aith goes still. “Sayah? What do you know that I don’t?”

  I hesitate, but not for long. Aith has been a devout member of the Midnight family for the last four years. And if I can trust anyone with my concerns, it’s him.

  He listens intently as I speak, filling him in on the conversation upstairs and what I was able to surmise with my amhara.

  “But if Chol is the Prince—and I agree with you, I think he is—then where is his magick?” he asks when I’m done.

  “That isn’t the million dollar question though, is it?” He blinks as I rock back a little in my chair. “What the hell are they running from that they need to seek asylum with the deadliest assassins in the world as their personal bodyguards?”

  Aith meets my gaze head on, dread turning his naturally grey skin ghost white. “I don’t know, Sayah. But pray it doesn’t find them while they’re here.”

  Chapter 3

  I pound my knuckles over the old door, uncaring as it rattles in its frame.

  “Enter,” Father calls.

  I slip inside his office, daggers back in place as Aith’s words reverberate in my skull. “Why are they hiding here?” I demand without preamble.

  Father glances up, wariness resting in his hazel eyes. The bank of windows behind him are dark, pitch with the ever present night of the Void. Two towering crystal lamps rest in each corner, keeping the shadows away. It’s so like Chol’s necklace that I can’t help but shudder.

  “Who?” he asks.

  “The Delancres. Who else?”

  His gaze shutters, closing off. “They seek asylum on their journey, Sayah. Nothing more.”

  Asylum. Right.

  “Chol wears a pendant of binding,” I retort. “I saw it earlier. It’s hiding his magick behind some sort of shadow cast. One of the strongest ones I’ve ever seen.”

  Father’s lips mottle as he presses them into a thin line. With steady motions, he sets down his pen and runs a hand through his coiffed chestnut hair. The slight edge of silver near his temples is stark in comparison. He steeples his fingers and watches me.

  “Chol is a prince, Sayah. A prince to a rather sought after sect. The cambions are more humanoid than their parents, to be sure, but they are just as powerful. Throughout history they have seduced kings and queens, turned the tides of war, and influenced many to better themselves. But they can pass as normal to all but a few. If Chol, as young and as powerful as Marlec professes him to be, fell under the sway of someone else…they would use him to the Gods only know what end. He wears the pendant to block his power. So he can blend into modern society. That is all.”

  His words ring in my ears. It’s the truth, and I know it. But it’s not the whole story either. My eyes narrow before I can stop them. “That’s not all of it. Why won’t you tell me the rest?”

  Father sits back in his leather chair, arms crossed in the casual button-up he wears. It’s not as relaxed as it appears. The wards under the rug help to keep him safe with little more than a gentle pulse of his magick, an almost idle trickle that feeds the delicate web. Ever weary of attack, my Father.

  But with what we both are… We have to be.

  “Chol is our guest, Sayah. You will not press on this. Not now. Let it go.”

  My lips start to pull back in a snarl, but I stop it fast enough. “Aith said their guards are Hallows. Is that true, at least?”

  Father clamps his mouth closed and leans back over his papers. The casual dismissal makes blood roar in my ears and a crackle of power shoots to my fingertips. I try to shut it off, to stifle it. It bolts across the floor, scorching the wood.

  His head whips up. The same glow from my magick fills his eyes. “Sayah!” My name is a command to stop.

  I clench my hands into fists, letting the magick flow back into my skin.

  We stare at each other.

  “Marlec, Erem, your mother and I, will be going across the convergence for a meeting with the Consul,” he says, almost as a warning. “Chol and his guard will remain here. In the wards. I trust you to keep an eye on them. And you won’t disappoint me in this.”

  I swallow my retort. So it is babysitting duty.

  “Furthermore, you will see us off and present a united front before our guests. There will be no errors and no problems,” he continues. Breaking eye contact, he shuffles through his papers. “At all.”

  My fingers tighten so much that my fingerless leather gloves creak softly.

  He never looks up, trusting that I will do exactly as he asks, no questions or arguments involved. But he never gives me the same trust. He never has and I am starting to believe he never will.

  I turn on my heel and walk from the room, closing the door with a loud bang behind me.

  Ѻ

  Cool twilight flows around me on the steps. I barely notice it. Aith, Erem, Marlec, and Father wait just in the shadows of the tree line. Mother kisses me on the cheek and I barely acknowledge that too. “Stay safe,” she murmurs. “We will be back soon.” Her eyes are clear when she leans away, but her worry beats at me regardless.

  This will be my first time leading the embassy with so many important guests inside. It’s a huge honor, even if it feels more like a punishment.

  I nod and try to keep my eyes fixed forward. And not on the two males just behind me. Apparently they weren’t overly happy about being left behind, either.

  United front, Sayah. United front.

  The words echo in my head over and over. Mother smiles and waves politely to Chol and Nix before crossing the emerald lawn. It is odd to see her in full gear instead of the skirt suits she prefers, but she wears it like she hasn’t forgotten how. It’s how I need to wear mine.

  She fades into the trees. I square my shoulders and hold my head high before turning to our esteemed guests.

  Chol watches me with a trace of mild heat in his gaze. Nix just continues to stare off into the dark after the already disappeared figures.

  “Dinner is in a few hours. Feel free to help yourself to all the amenities that Midnight has to offer,” I say.

  “And what does Midnight have to offer?” Chol asks, gaze trailing from the tips of my boots to the top of my head and back.

  I try to ignore how it makes my blood sing.

  Cambion, Sayah. He’s a cambion.

  “There are the gardens, the training room, a game room, and a hot pool. Please do not leave the manor without myself or at least two guards.”

  Nix makes a sound, but never even looks in my direction. “I will not seek the aid of a junior ambassador in protecting my charge.”

  I bristle. “Ambassador, not junior.” My tone is sharp, even to my ears. I exhale in one long push, forcing my anger to dissipate. “As I said, please stay within the embassy walls, but make yourselves at home.

  Pushing past them back into the house, I head straight for the stairs and the training room on the second floor. First Father and now Nix? Who does the Hallow think he is anyway?

  I shudder. “Stupid question.”

  No doubt he could kill anything that attacked the Prince before I could move, but his snide belief in my abilities irks. I’ve trained since birth to protect Midnight. But it’s all been in hopes of one day making it topside. To Earth and the wondrous world far from the constant dark of the Void.

  I never wanted to be stuck here. Now, at eighteen, the walls seem closer than ever, suffocating me.

  Slipping between the doors to the training room, several grumbles of welcome flow from the resident squatters of the bottom section. Beefy muscles and scarred features are commonplace. Then again, most that seek asylum at Midnight come here because there is nowhere else for them to go. Nowhere that will house their attitudes or unsavory abilities.

  Even in the Void.<
br />
  I stalk up the stairs to the empty top tier, and—back to the wall—start stretching to warm up my muscles.

  My gear moves with me, like a glove over my frame. But Nix’s words reverberate until my anger sends me into motion, warmed up or otherwise.

  I roll over the nearest mat and come to a crouch, twin knives in my grasp before shooting them at the targets across the room. Again and again, I throw. My blades cluster like spikes of darkness in the center of the far off bullseye. Through the white noise filling my head, grunts and groans mingle with the scents of sweat and metal. The old training room grows louder, busier than normal, even for Midnight. But I haunt the mats on the second tier, practicing my release throw.

  Pulling my last two onyx daggers, I twirl them through my fingers and advance on the ballistics dummy. My hair sticks to my cheeks and the back of my neck. I slash, jab, and slice the large male bust.

  With one final exhale, I slam the tips into the scowling eyes of my opponent and step back, chest heaving.

  An appreciative whistle sounds behind me, and I whirl.

  Chol leans against the railing, clapping softly. “I have to say, I was a bit worried you were simply another pretty face.”

  I raise a brow. Though he appears alone, there is no way Nix left him for long. “And I was unaware the noble house of Delancre would care if I was,” I snap.

  He smiles, and my knees turn to rubber. “Alas, you cut me to the quick with that one, Sayah.” My name rolls from his lips, and my hands tighten until the warm metal of my daggers pinches my palms.

  I grit my teeth at my body’s idiotic reaction. “Really?” I ask. “Care to risk being cut for real?”

  His eyes flash, little sunbursts gleaming as he walks in a smooth glide over the mats to me. I watch him come closer, hips rolling and each step a damn sensual sway of lean muscle. “Are you aware that the Cambion are quite skilled in combat?” he asks.

  I stare up at him as he towers over me. No easy feat for my tall frame. The damn cookie scent of his skin fills my lungs until hunger lights up my insides. “I’ve never heard that.”

  He smiles and something warm trails from my throat to my navel and farther down. I exhale, knees weak. Another pulse of light filters into his irises and a haze covers my thoughts.