The Shadow Paradox: The Shadow Enforcer Series Book Three

by N M Thorn

  Connecting with his elemental power, Damian summoned his daggers and jetted toward the sound. A tall door was the only entrance he could see, and the sound as well as the vampiric energy signature of his brother was coming from behind it. Without thinking twice, he applied a powerful push kick. The door flew off its hinges, sliding across the carpeted floor with a dull bang.

  Damian crossed inside a dimly illuminated room and halted with his jaw dropped. The contents of the room could easily put to shame any adult store, and its furnishing left no doubt as to what the purpose of this chamber was. Cole sat on a soft leather chair, his shirt unbuttoned on his chest, and a woman stood over him, screaming, her face contorted by fear and fuming anger. Holding a short sword with a dark ultramarine stone in its pommel, she raised her hand over Cole as if ready to plummet it down.

  “Donna Luna!” shouted Damian, and the walls of the bunker shook as his elemental power took him over. “Amaris! I’m here. I did what you ordered me to do. I brought you ‘that—I don’t know what’.” He stepped forward, and the floor quaked under his feet. A few items rolled off the shelves, falling to the floor with soft thuds. “Amaris!”

  He grabbed Petrukha’s shoulder, pushing him forward slightly. The woman snapped toward him, pointing her sword at him.

  “What did you do?” she hissed at Damian, her entire body locked with rage. “I lost my magic! All magic is gone. Everywhere!” She spun in place, dismay and horror twisting her otherwise beautiful features. “You have no idea what you’ve done, idiot! All my wards and cloaking spells are gone!” She stopped shouting and looked around, blackness filling her dark eyes to the brim as she listened to something only she could hear. “It’s coming… I can feel it already… There is no way out now—”

  “Release my brother and the rest of my friends, and we’ll help you fight the demon you made a deal with centuries ago,” offered Damian.

  She cackled, her hysterical laughter cutting through Damian’s hearing like a microphone feedback. “You and this joke of a wizard are just as powerless as I am,” she screeched, waving her sword at them. “As far as I can detect, the entire Downtown Phoenix has a magical energy outage.” She stepped closer to Damian, rising on her tiptoes. “How did you do it, Blake? It’s impossible to do something like this alone!”

  “Who said I was alone?” Damian arched his eyebrow, raising his dagger glowing with the orange light of his elemental power. “And what makes you think I’m powerless?” He channeled more of his elemental power, making the floor quake for added affect, and laughed, throwing his head back. “So, what is it going to be, Donna Luna?”

  “You’re an imbecile!” she squealed at Damian. Then she turned to Cole, lowering her sword. “Cole, are you sure you and this village simpleton have the same parentage?” She approached him, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, a strange glimmer of longing appearing in her black eyes for a heartbeat. “It’s been a long while since I actually enjoyed the company of a man, and I wish we could have had more time together, but it is what it is. You’re free to go, Cole.”

  She brushed his cheek with her fingers.

  What the hell? A thought flashed through Damian’s mind as he watched the obvious signs of affection slowly vanish from Donna Luna’s face.

  “You can take your maker and anyone else you wish to safety. The bunker is no longer locked. The hidden exit door is located in the central room.” She ripped a delicate necklace off her neck and threw it into Cole’s hands. “Give it to Jeff, and he’ll let all of you out.”

  Cole got up but hesitated, his troubled gaze lingering on Damian.

  “Go! Now!” growled Damian, pointing at the exit, and then projected using their blood bond. “Save everyone you can, brother. I’ll see you soon.”

  Suddenly the walls shook so violently that a few fractures materialized in the ceiling. Donna Luna screamed in fear, bending her knees. She dropped her sword, wrapping her arms around her head, and closed her eyes.

  “Now!” Damian shouted. Crossing the distance between himself and his brother in a few long strides, he seized his arm and dragged him all the way to the exit. Quickly taking the scabbard with the sword off, he shoved it into Cole’s hands and pushed him out the door.

  “Damian, the abducted witches… I believe I found them. Follow this hallway all the way to the end. There is only one room there. The amount of magical energy I can sense there is enough to turn Downtown Phoenix into ground zero,” Cole projected through their connection and took off running. “Watch your back, brat moi… I’ll come back for you!”

  “No! Stay out of this,” yelled Damian, tones of desperation clear in his voice even through their blood bond. “For once, Cole, do as I say!” As his brother disappeared from view, he turned to Donna Luna.

  “I honored my side of the deal,” she said, holding out her hand. “Give me my mask and”—she jerked her chin toward Petrukha—“this holy fool before the demon breaks inside.”

  The bunker quaked again, eliciting another scream of fear out of Donna Luna.

  Damian channeled his elemental power, and his daggers vanished. Then he moved his hand over his left arm, and an old silver box materialized in his palm. He grunted, cold sweat dripping down his back. Without magic, he had to use his elemental energy for everything, and it was taking a lot of strength and concentration. He touched the box with the tip of his index finger, and the lid cracked open. Donna Luna sucked in a sharp breath that sounded like a gasp and pressed her hand to her chest.

  “Give it to me, quickly!” she hissed, stretching her trembling hand toward the box, her fingers slowly morphing into demonic claws.

  Damian grabbed both pieces of the broken mask out of the box and threw them into her hands, disgust making his skin crawl. She caught them and dropped to her knees, realigning the pieces on the floor. The dark smoke of demonic essence swirled around her as she touched the mask, whispering something. The pieces snapped together, but a tiny, thin line still remained in the place where it was broken.

  “Dammit! I have a bad feeling… Without magic, the demonic essence is not enough to evoke the power of this mask,” she hissed, stretching her deformed, clawed fingers toward Petrukha. “Still, worth trying. I need his blood next.” She noticed that the old Enforcer threw a desperate gaze at Damian, and added in an angry growl, “Not all of your blood. Unfortunately, you’ll survive, old, drunken fool.”

  “Do it,” ordered Damian, giving Petrukha a short nod.

  Swallowing hard, Petrukha took one knee next to Donna Luna and extended his arm, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up. She cackled, shaking her head.

  “You miserable halfwit. You cost me hundreds of years in hiding and…” Her voice trailed away, her eyes burning with hatred. “I wish I could slice your chest and rip your beating heart out of it,” she hissed through clenched teeth, so much malice in her voice that Petrukha flinched, involuntarily yanking his arm back. She cackled with icy contempt. “Don’t worry, old fool. You have a guard, who at the moment is more powerful than I am, and I don’t start fights I can’t win.”

  With one sharp move of her claws, she sliced Petrukha’s arm above his wrist and seized the hair on the back of his head to keep him steady. The metallic odor of blood permeated the air, and Petrukha clenched his jaw, his eyes glued to the shining shards of mirror that were bedazzling the mask.

  As the first drops of blood came in contact with the mask, they boiled, and dirty, gray swirls of smoke rose in the air above it. Donna Luna allowed the blood to flow, holding Petrukha in place. A few seconds later, she waved her hand to dispel the smoke and squealed in delight. Pushing Petrukha out of the way, she grabbed the mask and hopped to her feet, a wild glee igniting her eyes with a dark purple glow. Placing the mask over her face, she reached back, trying to secure it on the back of her head.

  Petrukha fell, hitting his head hard against the floor. His eyes rolled back, and he blacked out. Damian grabbed his shoulders, pulling him away from Donna Luna. Then h
e placed his hand over his tattoo, summoning his gargoyle.

  “Zhulik, I need you to take Petrukha outside the circle and find Archmage Allerton,” he said, speaking in a quick whisper. “Tell him that his mages need to increase the potency of their spell to the maximum.”

  “No, Commander. I can’t leave you here alone to face this abomination,” Zhulik’s voice sounded in his mind, and the gargoyle in his natural state materialized next to him, his large eyes glowing a bright blue.

  “Alone is what I do best, Zhulik,” said Damian, spreading his shoulders. “A powerful demon is coming, and I can’t let it back out into the world. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make this bunker its final grave. Go. Now! It’s important that you deliver my message to the Archmage.”

  “Fine. I’ll be back in a jiffy. Don’t start all the fun without me.” Zhulik grabbed Petrukha, throwing him on his back as if the fully grown man weighed nothing, and with a light pop, they both vanished.

  The bunker shook harder than before, sending a shower of dust and debris down. Damian looked up at the ceiling covered in a web of cracks, and an uneven smirk distorted his lips.

  “Your demon is coming, Donna Luna or Amaris, whatever you want to call yourself these days,” he said calmly. “What are you going to do now?” Anger swirled within him, and a bright glimmer of elemental energy emitted by his body illuminated the room. A glowing pair of handcuffs materialized in his hands, and Donna Luna hissed, taking a step away from him. “Come with me, and I’ll make you invisible to the Guard of Hell you brought into this world.”

  “A Guard of Hell?” Donna Luna laughed, her face slowly changing its form, morphing into something dark and unnatural. Her already black eyes tilted at a sharp angle. Her mouth became wider, displaying a set of terrifying fangs, and her skin turned a shade of greenish blue. All her features sharpened, bones protruding through her thin, scaled hide. “You wish it were a Guard of Hell, Enforcer. That would be a mercy.”

  “What kind of evil did you bring into this world? If it’s more powerful than a Guard of Hell, what is it?” Damian shouted, taking a step closer to her.

  “You thought you could outsmart me, asshole? Wait, and you will find out quite soon.” Donna Luna turned away from him, and swirls of demonic essence spiked around her. “But I’m not sticking around to see the expression on your face when you meet him.”

  Using her demonic essence, she drew a black rune in the air and pressed her deformed, shaking palm over it, whispering the words of summons. She waited for a few long seconds, but as nothing happened, she stomped her foot and screamed, digging her claws into her own scalp in helpless fury and desperation. With one aggravated wave of her hand, Donna Luna got rid of the rune and repeated the same procedure.

  Damian folded his arms, the shiny handcuffs dangling over the crook of his elbow. “You’re wasting your time, Amaris… Donna Luna,” he said icily. “If you think your master will come to your rescue, you’ll be disappointed.”

  “You know nothing about my master,” she snapped back angrily. “He’ll come. He won’t leave me.”

  “You’re right,” agreed Damian. “I know nothing about your master. A second ago, I didn’t even know he existed. Thank you for confirming my suspicions.”

  Donna Luna screeched something incoherent, and two weak, leathery wings sprouted behind her back. She flapped them, but without magic, she couldn’t fully use her demonic powers either. She bent down and grabbed the sword from the floor, charging Damian with full force. The handcuffs vanished from his hands, replaced by his daggers, and he blocked her strike with ease. Pushing her away, he laughed, infuriating her even more.

  She squealed, raising her sword again, but before she could make another move, the bunker shook with such a violent power that she fell on her back, dropping the sword. An earsplitting bang of a powerful impact rolled through the empty hallways, and the entire building trembled again. The first impact was followed by a second one, and soon the bangs turned into a continuously rumbling clamor.

  The amount of demonic energy rose to overwhelming proportions, taking Damian’s breath away. He staggered backward until his back hit the wall and looked up. The cracks on the ceiling became wider and suddenly, it caved in, giant pieces of metal and concrete falling inside the room.

  A huge, gaping hole remained in the place where the ceiling had once been. A long, wide vertical shaft ran up through the ground all the way to the surface, parts of concrete reinforcing blocks, bent and broken steel rods, pipes, and pieces of wood protruding from its walls. A cloud of dust and debris rose in the air, making it unsuitable for breathing. Hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, Damian raised his eyes, afraid to find out what kind of monster could’ve created something like this.

  As the dust settled down, he saw a piece of the midnight sky at the end of the tunnel, partially obscured by an enormous, winged silhouette, darkness, darker than night, slithering around it like a bunch of snakes. Cold sweat covered Damian’s forehead, his arms dangling at his sides, his daggers gone.

  Oh, God damn it all… I wasn’t ready for that…

  Chapter 30

  ~ Cole Adams ~

  Cole zoomed through the dark hallways at full speed and burst through the entrance into his room. Just as he crossed the threshold, the bunker shook again, nearly sending him flying. He staggered forward a few steps but caught himself and straightened, fastening his back scabbard and readjusting the straps.

  At first, Ruslan jumped to his feet, but then froze in place, ready to spring into action at any moment, his unblinking eyes on Cole. Sylvana stood behind him, her face a stone mask.

  “Cole, what’s going on?” Ruslan glanced up as another tremor ran through the floor.

  “We’re leaving. I’ll explain everything later,” snapped Cole, waving toward the exit. “Now!”

  Turning on his heels, he stormed out the door. He didn’t look back, his vampiric senses detecting the presence of his maker and Sylvana right behind him. Glancing up, he noticed that every single piece of anti-magic tech was down. He didn’t think Amaris had turned his security off voluntarily, but he had neither the time nor the desire to find out what happened.

  Like a bodiless shadow in the depth of the night, he zoomed across the central area, moving at such speed that no one even noticed him. He rushed through the familiar hallway and turned the corner toward Ricardo’s room without dropping speed. He came to a screeching halt in front of a door and kicked it open without knocking. The door swung, hitting the wall with a loud bang, and at the same time, the bunker shook again, deep tremors running through the floor.

  He walked inside and stilled, his muscles turning into iron as he took in the situation. Ricardo was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back. His sister stood behind him, holding a knife under his chin. As his dark eyes halted on Cole, his lips parted, but he said nothing, disbelief still reflected on his face.

  Two women, armed to the teeth, stood between him and Ricardo, their swords at the ready. A movement of air behind him told him that Ruslan and Sylvana were with him, and a frosty smile touched Cole’s lips.

  “Give me Ricardo and Camila, and I’ll let you leave with your lives,” he growled, pointing at the women.

  “The Sisterhood of the Sun is coming for you, vamp,” hissed the woman on his left, taking a step closer to him.

  Cole laughed, his laughter so cold and menacing that the women exchanged a terrified look, and their hands, holding swords, trembled slightly.

  “You don’t belong to the Sisterhood. You’re nothing but worthless imposters,” Cole growled, unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion.

  The red stone embedded into the pommel reacted to his touch, and a weak wave of magical energy spread through him, raising goosebumps on his arms.

  How is it possible? Damian blocked the magic… A thought flashed through his mind, but he had no time to dwell on it.

  He turned his head slowly from left to right and touched the tips of his fangs w
ith his tongue, a soft hiss escaping his mouth.

  “I have already killed four of Amaris’ impostors. Do you seriously think I can’t take care of the two of you?” He moved his sword, drawing a figure eight, the steel whistling through the air. “I think I’ll enjoy it.”

  The women exchanged another look and charged at him at the same time, shouting profanities at the top of their lungs. Cole moved forward, closing the distance between himself and the woman on his left in a moment shorter than a heartbeat. Before she realized what was happening, Cole seized her throat with his left hand and thrust his blade through her heart. She gasped, her wide eyes filled with horror never leaving his. He yanked his sword back, a spurt of bright, red blood splattering his half-opened shirt. As her pupils dilated, and the motionless void of death settled in her gaze, he unlocked his fingers, letting her lifeless body fall to the floor with a soft thud.

  Cole snapped to the right, but before he could make a move, a dark shadow darted past him, and the second woman fell dead, her headless corpse lying on the floor next to her fallen teammate. Ruslan stood next to her, his blood-coated fingers still holding her head. A crooked, carnivorous smile lifted a corner of his mouth, his dangerous fangs fully expanded. As the odor of blood infused the air, touching his senses, his eyes lit up brighter, and he grunted, forcing his thirst under control.

  “You talk too much, my son,” Ruslan growled, dropping the head. As it rolled across the floor, he shrugged and wiped his hands on his pants. “One day, your love for social conversation will kill you.”

  “Still alive,” muttered Cole, winking at his maker. He stepped over the dead body and headed toward Camila and Ricardo.

  “Sisterhood slayers they are not,” grumbled Silvana, her upper lip curling in disdain as she kicked one of the dead women.