Shadowed Fire (Veil of Midnight Book 1)

by A. Vers

  I peer back at Chol and his storm-cloud-gray eyes are feverish in the dim light of the orb. “Hang on, okay? You have to hang on.”

  He offers me a bare nod and topples over sideways.

  My heart stops. “Chol!” I grab his shirt, trying to rile him enough to waken. “Chol. Come on. Wake up.”

  He remains unmoving; chest barely rising and falling under my hand.

  “Shit!” I scream, voice hoarse and dry.

  I rifle through the bangles, rings and necklaces remaining on my body. A slim piece of emerald rests on a thin band of silver over my bicep.

  Tearing it from my arm, I slip it over his wrist and close my eyes.

  Green flashes of light glow behind my lids. Every whispered word of the half remembered incantus pulls more and more power from my body. Power I don’t have to spare. But power he desperately needs.

  I push it all into the gem, cycling it into his body and praying for regeneration. Healing.

  A snap nearby echoes in my ears, I startle, the weaving fading into the bracelet with a soft shimmer of light. I pray it’s enough.

  With a thought, the orb above my head sputters and dies.

  Darkness closes around us. I pull the twin dirks, fatigue and nausea warring for my attention. My ears strain and my eyes burn as I peer into the gloom.

  Another quiet pop, and the low murmur of an unfamiliar language. It rustles, like leaves on a breeze to my ears. Multiple cadences and tones. A group?

  I huddle over Chol, waiting.

  Quiet breathing comes closer. Oddly there is not a single other sound. I rise up into a crouch, blades tight in my grasp.

  With a pulse, my orb flares to life like the sun high in the sky.

  Dark cloaked figures hiss and fall back, forming a loose ring just on the edge of the light.

  “Who are you?” I demand, voice strong despite my exhaustion.

  A single leg, clad in furs and loose bits of fabric, presses into the glow around me. A grimy hand follows, then a shoulder and a dark, cloaked head.

  The figure straightens and the light catches over a painted face and midnight eyes that shine oddly.

  Someone shouts in a garbled mix of sounds in the shadows.

  “Dim your…light,” the figure closest says. With the heavy rasp to their voice and the thick layers of fabric, it’s hard to tell if it is male or female.

  I grip my blades. “Why? It’s keeping the rest of you out.”

  The figure raises its hands. “We wish...” It takes a step closer, head cocking this way and that. “Blood…smelled blood.”

  My teeth bare. “He’s not dead. You can’t eat him.”

  Silence falls and then low murmurs ring around me. I whip around, realizing the figures have spread without my noticing. One paces closer.

  “Back,” I command, leaping up and lunging.

  They scuttle away.

  Something moves out of my peripheral. I spin to find the figures dragging Chol.

  Anger flares through me and I throw the blades.

  They sink hilt deep into two of the closest shadows, but I’m already weaving.

  Magick flares at my command, brilliant blue and white. My hands flip back to throw and pain explodes in my head.

  My body crumbles, temples throbbing and the world tilting in an odd sheen of black and blue. I lift my head, searching for Chol, and warmth trickles along my cheek. Something dark leans over his motionless frame, pulling at his clothes.

  “Chol,” I croak. Fire dances down my fingers, and a new pain explodes behind my eyes.

  The darkness is instant.

  Chapter 20

  I roll, groaning as the ache in my skull builds to a blinding pain. With every breath, it throbs in time to my heart, pulsing and grinding until nausea burns in my stomach.

  My eyes flutter open, expecting to find the spell weaves in my room or maybe the fires of Hell.

  A patched network of thin bits of wood and old fabric stretch in a dome overhead. They flutter, buffeted, no doubt, by the wind audible as it roars just outside. I sit up, slowly, holding the side of my head.

  Something smooth wraps tight across my hair. I pluck at it, and the bandage tightens. My hand drops back into my lap as I take in the interior of the tent.

  Pelts, old blankets, and thick cushions rest beneath me, and a tall wooden glass sits within reach.

  I half fall, half roll from the makeshift bed to grab it. Warm, but clean looking water sits inside and I down it in two gulps before looking around for more.

  “Small sips, mashka.” I turn as the narrow, fabric opening slips apart, allowing an older female--with long, coarse gray hair--to duck inside.

  She peers at me from strange midnight eyes that seem to reflect the mediocre light around us. The heavy, dusty plaits of her hair sport half dried vines and bits of leaf.

  I set the cup on the dirt floor and start to rise. Everything spins, dropping me back down. She rushes over in a feeble hobble, thick layers of cloth hiding her frame. One weathered hand pushes on my shoulder.

  “You will sicken if you do not go slow.” Her voice is hoarse, and heavily accented, but easy enough to make out.

  “Please,” I try. “My friend. Where is he?”

  She pauses. “Sleeps. As you do.”

  My head whirls. Sleeping? Tears well, brimming over my eyes until I sag deep into the cushions. I sob, uncaring as my head hurts worse.

  The woman huffs. She hobbles back to the opening and whistles.

  There is a few murmured sounds and words. She lets the flap fall back closed and watches me.

  A wide back slips under the opening and walks inside. Familiar gold hair emblazons around his torso.

  “Chol,” I cry. The man lays the prince out on the cushions next to me, and I curl against his good side, tears falling freely to dampen his dusty, tan skin.

  Bandages wrap his bare torso, but no blood stains the material and a huge weight leaves me.

  The man’s dark eyes go between us and then to the elderly woman.

  He murmurs something to her in that strange language. She nods and motions him back out.

  When she turns back to me, she makes a shooing gesture. “Aye. No more that. You sleep.” I hiccup, clinging to Chol. “Sleep.” Her gaze is fierce, shrewd even. She points to the cushions, and I obediently lay down.

  She huffs again, but nods and ducks under the flap, leaving us alone.

  I exhale, tears still falling from my eyes. Chol breathes evenly next to me. Though pale, he seems fine. I burrow under the top blanket, pulling it up over him too, and press my cheek over his chest.

  His body is warm next to me, easing an ache I didn’t realize was there. I close my eyes and let the wind outside lull me back to sleep.

  Ѻ

  A gentle tug flows through my hair. I grumble and sidle closer to the warmth around me.

  “Fine, but you at least have to share the blanket.”

  My eye fly wide and I slowly tilt my head back. Chol peers at me, silver eyes burning softly. My lips tremble.

  His teasing expression fades like you wiped it off his face. “Say… Don’t cry. No woman has ever cried in my bed. Ever. And this wasn’t what I had planned for when you came to mine, so—”

  I kiss him hard, teeth knocking and all. But I don’t care. He’s alive.

  His lips soften, guiding me gently to something tender, smoother. I moan. The answering sound that pours from him is all need.

  He reels back, catching me by surprise. “Sayah. Stop.” His chest heaves under my hands, skin scorching me. “Well…” His silvery eyes glitter as he pants, languid and hot. “That was closer to what I planned, but we don’t have to rush anything. Really. And I don’t know that my side would hold for what I have in mind.”

  I stare at him, and it’s then I realize the tears have made an unfortunate return.

  My head drops into the curve of cushions and I shake, cold and hot at the same time. Every fear buffets my insides. Gods. How has Nix done th
is for so long? Alone too.

  Which only makes me worry about the infernal Hallow all the more.

  Chol’s arms flow around me, one hand idly rubbing down my spine. “I’m okay. It will be okay,” he murmurs.

  I tremble. “You collapsed, Chol. And Nix was gone and I didn’t know what to do. Then these people came… They said they smelled blood and…” My breathing catches as cold reality sinks in. “I may have killed two of them.”

  He stills, then his arms tighten. In a slow turn, he rolls us, pulling me back to lay in the curve of his arms. My hand pillows on his chest. “Well, if you did, they still decided to help us. Which is more than I expected from a traveling nomad group in the Void.” His fingers wind in mine.

  I prop my head against his chest, wiping at the betraying tears before peering at him. “But what about Nix? How will he find us?”

  Chol’s lips turn up in a smile. “He just will.” The way he says it is like it’s fact. Like there is no one he has more faith in than the Hallow normally at his side. He rubs a hand over my cheek and back farther, pushing my tousled hair behind my ear. His eyes search mine. “I can’t believe you protected me like that. Again.”

  My face heats. “What was I supposed to do? Let you die?”

  He smirks at my incredulous tone. “Most others would have.”

  I huff.

  One finger trails over my jaw before grasping my chin. He tugs gently. I rise, meeting him halfway.

  His lips are soft, warm, but filled with an iron edge. And he uses them to his fullest advantage. I’m helpless under his cambion skill, drugged by the power of his touch.

  He kisses me slowly, pressing harder until I make small noises. His teeth snare my bottom lip before he soothes the minuet ache with the scalding swirl of his tongue. When he asks for entrance, I open willingly, fisting my hands into the thick tendrils of his hair and dragging my nails over the bare skin of his shoulders.

  When he pulls away again, my head is spinning and heat burns through me. He nuzzles my nose. “I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you at Midnight,” he whispers.

  “You did?”

  He chuckles, the sound masculine and very happy. With reverent touches, he urges me back down against him and hooks the blanket in his grasp before pulling it around us. “Sleep with me, Sayah. Just sleep. And let me dream of you.”

  How can I say no?

  Smiling, I curl around him. Our legs intertwine and his delectable cookie fragrance fills my nose. “Sleep,” he prompts again.

  And I willingly lead him into slumber.

  Chapter 21

  The Parax tribe stretches before me. Every face is covered in madju, the tribe’s thick paste to keep their skin moist in the desert of the Void. The heavy, grey muck even coats their hair, leaving the tendrils stiff and darker in places. They all watch me from their seats in the large meeting hall, black eyes glittering and unfathomable.

  I try not to shift under their scrutiny.

  The older woman who allowed Chol to join me in the tent, Mat, sits across from me on the reed platform. From what I can surmise, the Parax are matriarchal and Mat is their wise woman. She tosses another handful of foul-smelling herbs into the fire pit between us. Smoke billows up into the tent in white tendrils that roll and seem almost alive.

  “Mashka,” she begins. “Why come you to the long dark?”

  I look around. “I live in the Void. At the embassy, Midnight.”

  Murmurs flow through the room. Mat raises a hand and silence descends. She assesses me. “How come you to be this far?”

  Her question is loaded, even if she doesn’t realize it. I weigh how much to tell her.

  “My embassy was attacked,” I say, finally, picking my words with care. “A dark cloud that devours magick came in the night. It sought to harm all the supernaturals there. We were attacked again by a group of hunters, forcing my companions and I to flee. We seek asylum on Earth, at the Consulate, but the first convergence was destroyed. It forced us deeper into the Void. So we travel to Hemlock…” My chest tightens all over again at the memory of Nix in the pitch blackness, sword in hand as he faced our enemies alone. “But we got separated in the dark.”

  Mat dips her head, but her black eyes glitter like a cats’. “Truth.”

  The others shift on the floor, exchanging long glances.

  Mat’s head tilts. “We are nomad. The great traveler. You are day from big city.”

  My stomach flips. “A day?”

  She nods, no doubt, taking in every expression and move I make.

  My mind whirs. So close. So close to the convergence point and Earth. To getting Chol and Nix both somewhere safe.

  If only the Hallow would hurry up and find us.

  I start to rise, then stop. My eyes dip to Mat. “May I go? To tell my friend how close we are?”

  Her lips tremor. She waves one hand dismissively. “Go, mashka.”

  I clamor to my feet with an awkward bow. “Thank you. Thank you so much for your help.” I take off through the big tent.

  Pushing out into the dark, I try to orientate myself. Tents spread in ever widening rings as far as the eye can see. A single shelter rests to the right, the panels darker. Dimmer.

  But the lone figure on the log before the fire is easy enough to make out.

  I run toward Chol.

  He starts to rise, hand going to his side under the open shirt as the motion pulls his stitches. I wave him down.

  “We’re a day from Hemlock.”

  He blinks up at me. “What?”

  I crouch in front of him. “According to Mat, we are a day from the convergence. From Earth.”

  Relief smoothes his features and he sags. “A day?” He shakes his head. “A day from the consulate.”

  I can’t help but grin. “Almost there.”

  He looks at me, an answering tug on his full lips. “Almost.”

  I slip onto the log beside him and stare into the fire. Breathing seems a little easier now. Like there is a weight that’s been lifted. When Chol glances at me, silver and gold illuminating his irises, a low laugh pours from me.

  Safe. They are almost safe.

  Now where the hells is Nix?

  Ѻ

  Chol holds my hand as we walk through the tents on the second day after I awoke. His side is mostly healed thanks to Mat and her odd herbal magick, and my head no longer aches. This is the most peace we have had in days. And according to Chol, it’s the longest he has been in one place for years.

  “Are you saying you’ll go nomad?” I ask, teasing.

  He walks beside me, tousled hair just as dusty as I am. “Not in the slightest.” He looks around before winking at me. “Personally I need a shower more often than this.”

  I laugh and tug him along to the Brekka. The main tent of the Parax tribe is the home of every meal, clan meeting, and celebration.

  Most of the tribe don’t even glance up as we enter now. Instead a rousing chorus of Mashka and Tien reaches the domed rafters above. I flush.

  From what I have gotten out of Mat, who is indeed the medicine woman of the tribe, mashka means she-wolf and tien means sun. Though Chol’s name makes sense, word of my protecting him has spread through the tribe like wildfire, and everyone reacts to me like a fellow hunter. Even knowing I killed two of their men.

  I dip my head and murmur hello to the faces I recognize as Chol leads me to a secluded corner of the tent. He drops onto the cushions and pulls me into his lap.

  My face flames as the women snicker. A few of the tribe males toss angry looks Chol’s way, but he just tucks his head into the curve of my shoulder with a broad smile.

  I’ve had a few offers from some of the men. Offers I can’t even consider. Though I haven’t said anything to Chol, he refuses to leave my side unless we are in the tent.

  One rather large male, several low tables up, scours my body with his gaze. He’s scarred and grizzled. Harsh. He pats his leg suggestively. Ducking my head, I hide my burning cheeks with
my hair and ignore the newest offer of a Parax mate.

  The table beside us is already covered in strange dishes. Since the Parax do not trade with anyone but other nomads, their fare is reliant on what can be found in the Void.

  I snare a crisp bit of the anoco plant and bite into the surprisingly juicy reed. Chol leans around me, mouth wide. I snort but give him a bite. He chews happily.

  “You reckon Nix will be here soon?” I ask.

  His smile fades and his expression grows troubled. “Nix is good. One of the best I’ve ever come across. If anyone could handle the hunters and get back to us…it’s him.”

  But that wasn’t a yes.

  My chest tightens all over again. Though a lot of it eased with Chol’s healing, the nagging memory of kissing Nix weighs on me. I don’t want to mess with the peaceful, teasing cloud that the prince has finally found, but the guilt of it weighs on me.

  I try not to fidget even as my stomach squirms with the emotion.

  Chol and I haven’t done much beyond some extremely hot kisses and sleeping in each other’s arms. He seems to stand by his word that we don’t have to rush, understanding as only a cambion can that I am not ready to go that far.

  But it’s more that I haven’t gone that far. Ever. Kissing him and Nix is the most I’ve ever experienced in that department.

  And though we haven’t talked about any relationship or exclusivity, every day that Chol heals, I know it is only a matter of time before he will need to feed again. To find pleasure in the arms of another.

  I peer at him as he lifts another piece of anoco to his pale lips.

  And I know, no matter what is between us now, when he needs to feed again, it won’t be on me.

  Ѻ

  The mildly warm water flows over my skin from the old bit of rag. It’s a precious commodity not only among the Parax, but among the dwellers this far into the Void. The little bucket is all Mat was willing to ration to my need to be dust free.

  I rub the strip of fabric over the back of my neck, scrubbing as much as I can. The little trails of cooling warmth slides down my bare back to pool at the waistband of my jeans, making me shiver.