Haunted by Shadows: Magic Wars: Demons of New Chicago Book Two

by Carpenter, Kel

  “Pain exists to remind us of the past. It serves as a warning of what’s coming when we make stupid choices. And you?” I eased into his grip. “Ronan, you wouldn’t just be a stupid choice. You’d be devastating. You’d come into my life, and you’d ruin it. But by then, I’d probably want you to. The guilt, the hatred; it would eat me alive. For as much as you know about me, surely you see that?”

  His face was emotionless for a moment, and then the slightest softening occurred. “Your hurt runs deep, and you’re confused, but that’s okay. We’ll get there. I’m not leaving, which means eventually you’ll have to accept me. You may break apart from the guilt, but I’ll be there to put you back together again.”

  I blanched, his words hitting something in my chest that squeezed tightly.

  “That wasn’t what I was—”

  My words stilled on my lips as the alley behind him disappeared.

  Darkness so black it was void of anything enveloped me. I felt his hands on my skin, but I couldn’t see him despite there being only inches between us.

  My heartbeat kicked up a notch, teetering dangerously close to the edge.

  Then light filled the room. I blinked back against it, feeling blinded even though it wasn’t particularly bright.

  “Where are we?” I said, trying to twist around and see.

  Gray walls. Black wood floors. Minimalist furniture.

  “My apartment.”

  I wrinkled my nose, though it rang true with what I was seeing. “Apartment? Since when did you have time to afford all this . . .” I started, but my words abruptly halted. The fight left me as we walked into a room. My legs were still wrapped around him. His hands were still all over me, but one look at the unconscious girl in her bed, and I settled.

  Ronan slid me down his body, letting me regain my footing.

  I stumbled forward, sinking to my knees. My hand reached for her and lowered slowly to her skin. It was dry, but it was always dry. Being inside for ten years did that to a person. She looked so fragile against the slate gray sheets. Her brown hair fanned over her pillow in long, wispy strands. The necklace around her neck pulsed with magical energy that kept her body from degenerating. It kept her healthy despite the fact she hadn’t eaten in ten years.

  “As you can see, she’s safe and unharmed. The same way she’ll remain.”

  “Unless I do what you want,” I added bitterly.

  “No,” he disagreed. “No matter what you choose to do, I won’t take it out on her. That would only hurt you more, and she’s done nothing to deserve it. If I’m angry with you, I’ll come to you, but I give you my word she will be safe here.”

  I lowered my hand to the bed, clenching the sheet in my fist. It smelled like mint and lilies in here. The scent was clean and soothing, but I didn’t want to be soothed.

  I wanted to be angry. I wanted to rage.

  He was so pigheaded, and yet . . . not.

  It beguiled me. It fascinated me. It made it harder to push him away, and easier to listen, yet my own guilt and distrust ate at me all the same.

  “How do I know you’re not lying?” I asked.

  “You don’t,” he said simply. I whipped my head around to glare at him, and he shrugged. “You also have no choice in the matter. I won’t let you have her back right now, so your guilt can rest easy knowing you had no other alternative. You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “I don’t,” I said.

  “I know, but you will.”

  So confident. So sure.

  I was beginning to doubt myself in the face of his absolute certainty, and that just wouldn’t do.

  “Why’d you bring me here?” I said, not getting off my knees. I was content to be next to Bree while facing Ronan.

  “A show of good faith. You’re worried about her, but you don’t need to be. What you need is to stop trying to get yourself killed. I’m handling the incident that happened at the boat. You trying to lure out our mysterious combatant only distracts me.”

  I grit my teeth. “I’m not going to sit around on my ass. Whoever it was had me tailed, which means this isn’t just about you.”

  “Exactly, which is why you need to stay in the apartment. You're safe there. The young witch’s wards are strong, and what she can’t handle, I can. If you’re going to go wandering about—”

  “You’ll what? Bring me here? Lock me up?” I snorted. “We’ll see how well that goes for you.”

  “There are other ways to keep you subdued,” he said, a rumbling growl in his voice. I sensed that I’d poked at something, and I couldn’t resist the urge to dig my nails in deeper.

  “Other ways?”

  “The blood exchange,” he said. My eyebrows drew together in slight confusion. “It’ll trigger your magic. You’ll enter stasis afterward.”

  My lips parted.

  Well, shit.

  I hadn’t planned on that when I’d agreed. I suddenly wasn’t bothered about the fact he didn’t just do it right there on the pier like I’d originally hoped.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, looking away.

  “Quite,” he said. “It’s the reason I haven’t done it despite the need to claim you . . .” His voice darkened, growing husky. “You test my patience and control, but every time you enter stasis, you put yourself at risk. I know the episodes are getting longer. Eventually you may not wake up. I can’t chance that.”

  I stared at Bree, trying to process the emotions running through me despite feeling overloaded and overwhelmed.

  He didn’t push me for it because he knew it would prompt the crash.

  He knew it was lengthening, and he was trying to prevent it.

  And Bree . . . if I never woke up, I’d never see her again. Even if there was a way to save her.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked, knowing he likely wouldn’t answer.

  Ronan sighed. “I told you my price for that information.”

  “You also won’t do it right now, will you?” I said without looking at him.

  “No.”

  “I could bite you,” I pointed out, twisting a lock of her hair with my index finger. “You bit me in the alley. All I would have to do is get a drop and that would trigger it. Then you’d have to tell me.”

  I heard the smirk in his voice when he spoke. “I wouldn’t let you, and you can’t stop me.”

  I growled under my breath. “Why make the deal if you won’t go through with it?”

  He was silent for a moment. I dropped my hand away from Bree and pushed back onto my heels, then stood. “For the same reason you accepted it without thinking. You’ll do anything for her. Once I tell you, all your focus will go into finding a way to bring her back. You don’t care about yourself. You won’t concern yourself with the danger. You’ll just run and dive in headfirst. Maybe you’ll find the answer, maybe you won’t—but I need to limit the danger you put yourself in first.”

  My lips thinned, and I crossed my arms over my chest when I faced him. “You want time,” I said. “But is it time to find our mysterious attacker . . . or time to try to win me over?”

  He smiled coldly, and I knew I hit the nail on the head.

  “Both.”

  “It won’t work,” I said. “You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

  He lifted a masculine eyebrow. “And what is that?”

  I didn’t even hesitate as I said, “Me finding a way to end you.”

  Ronan laughed, not taking my dark threat seriously in the slightest. Anger kindled inside me. A spark of something like fire ignited.

  I started toward him. Hands clenched and heart pounding.

  My eyes were locked on the crook of his neck.

  He must have seen it. My intent.

  I got close, but not close enough before black surrounded me. I found myself in the void once more, and while I sensed him there, I had no way of knowing where.

  I stumbled forward, swinging my arms around in the hopes of catching him off guard and hitting him. A dark chuckle whi
spered over my skin.

  “Not even you believe that lie anymore,” his voice said, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

  “You don’t know what I believe,” I snapped.

  “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I know you better than anyone, even yourself. And I want to know you better still.” Something like naked fingers grazed my spine, but that wasn’t possible. I was wearing a jacket . . . “Take a couple of days. Lie low. Let me follow up on some leads, and if you still want the blood exchange, I’ll do it.”

  Lips grazed my own.

  I lunged forward, teeth out, prepared to bite.

  Then ran headfirst into Nathalie’s door.

  The wards activated, and I bounced off it, flying back on my ass.

  “Ow,” I groaned, sitting up and rubbing the top of my head. A dark chuckle echoed around me as I muttered, “Fucker.”

  A door opened, but it wasn’t Nathalie’s.

  Señora Rosara peeked through the crack, her brown eyes narrowed on me. I lifted my hands in surrender. “That wasn’t me. Blame the demon.”

  “Mhmm,” she hummed, pursing her lips. The door slammed shut, and I sighed.

  A couple of days.

  Then I’d have the answer I’d been seeking for over a decade.

  I’d waited this long; a few more days wouldn’t kill me.

  Right?

  6

  Ronan

  I’d grown quite fond of the dark look in her eyes when she threatened murder. The way the lapis blue changed to periwinkle, as the rage magic within her peeked out—using her eyes like windows to the world. Even when she wasn’t actively using it, it was there all the same. Watching. Guarding. Always waiting to be unleashed.

  But today wasn’t the day, and right now wasn’t the time.

  Not when the magic that killed her stalker in the alley was potent enough for me to recognize it, and yet too faint to trace.

  It had the bite of rage.

  But the smoothness of spirit.

  There was a feverish quality that leaned toward desire.

  And a hard, unyielding cold that followed death.

  I shook my head and returned to the alley, hoping that I might see something I missed the first time. Some clue as to who the mysterious puppet master could be.

  I stepped out of the void, my eyes going to the spot where I’d stood with Piper not fifteen minutes before. There was a crack in the wall from where her head slammed back as she came.

  I clenched my fist, trying to push that from my mind for another time. The last thing I needed was to lose this battle I was waging against my own magic. It wanted her with a sort of desperation that leaked into my psyche so easily. But she wasn’t ready, not yet. Even if her will was weakening . . .

  I tore my eyes away from the brick wall to the spot where the ashes of her attacker were. Where they should have been.

  Only someone had cleaned up in the time I was gone.

  Not a sign of the ashes or any traces of magic remained anywhere. I walked the full length of the alley and around the block to be sure.

  When I picked up nothing, I stepped back through the void and into the penthouse apartment.

  “Piper was attacked today. Again,” I mentally communicated, jarring the boy from his sleep.

  “Wait, wh—”

  “Nathalie was not there, but it does not change that my atma was attacked. What have you heard?” Silence greeted me as the boy fumbled with his thoughts.

  “It’s the same as it has been,” the boy insisted. “Lucifer is missing. There are power struggles going on in the Underworld. It looks like the black-witch families are winning, but the land is being carved up and divided among the supes that can actually hold it.”

  “No mention of Piper?” I asked, tilting my head as I felt through his thoughts, sensing nervousness.

  “No, nothing. If anything it’s only been some mentions of Nat and what happened with her in the pits when Lucifer had her. Piper is the Witch Hunter, so it was not abnormal for her to have gotten in the bad with Lucifer and potentially disappear when he did.”

  Ah, yes. The witch. She displayed and controlled another’s power—a power she did not possess. Only the people of this world were fools and failed to realize she was nearly as rare and powerful as Piper, albeit different. I wouldn’t have left my atma with her if she wasn’t.

  “And me? Have you heard whispers of the harvester or another demon being here?” I inquired, moving about the apartment to check every room out of habit more than anything. I was the strongest demon in this realm, possibly ever—but I also had my atma’s unconscious sister and I could not become lax. Even the best can be fooled or overcome when they let their pride get in the way. I would not make that mistake.

  “Everyone that has seen you outside of me, Piper, and Nat—have died. There’s no one left to talk about you,” the boy answered groggily. I could see him rubbing his eyes and brushing his teeth. Satisfied with the answers he’d given me so far, I asked him one more thing.

  “What do you know about chaos magic?”

  7

  I cleaned my guns twice. The familiar rhythm soothed my nerves.

  It had been three days since I’d left the building and gone for coffee.

  Three days since I’d watched a man die, magic ending his ability to speak.

  Three days since Ronan found me and took me back to his apartment.

  Three fucking days, and I was still stewing.

  “I’m pretty sure they’re clean by now,” Nathalie said, from the kitchen. She stood on the other side of the bar, leaning over the edge, a glass of something fruity in hand. Her brown hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she wore a sweatshirt two sizes too large.

  “I don’t believe I asked for your opinion,” I replied, even though my hands stilled. I was on the verge of disassembling them for a third time, just because I had nothing better to do.

  Turns out, lying low for days on end could actually kill me.

  I felt like there was an irritation under my skin that I just couldn’t reach. A nervousness I couldn’t rid myself of. My own demons were staring me down from the shadowed corners of my mind. It’s not like they weren’t there before. They were. But it’s easier to ignore them when you’re busy fighting for your life.

  Sitting around with nothing to do? They haunted me.

  Nathalie let out a sigh. “You’re being bitchier than normal. Why don’t you go pick some vegetables for me? I’ll make dinner. You’re always nicer when you’re fed.”

  A frown tugged at my lips, but, well—she wasn’t wrong.

  I was nicer, but who wasn’t after eating? But the fresh air would do me good.

  “Fine,” I grumbled, stuffing one of the guns in the holster at the small of my back. I left the other one on the table, unloaded and with the safety on. I didn’t need to warn Nat not to touch my shit. She had no desire to learn to shoot. She figured she could talk herself out of most anything, and what she couldn’t, I could do the shooting. Still, the lessons I’d learned growing up were drilled into my mind. While most supes wouldn’t die if you shot them—humans didn’t have that luxury.

  I learned at a young age because I had to. Because the risk of not being able to protect myself outweighed the risk I’d accidentally kill someone.

  Nathalie didn’t say anything as I donned a pair of sneakers and a jacket. She started a kettle of water for tea, leaving me to bear the cold for dinner.

  The roof was frigid. While this wasn’t a particularly tall building, the cold was only getting worse and the wind more cutting. I stuffed my hands in my pockets as I shuffled across the flat gray expanse. On the other side, taking up half of the rooftop space, sat a greenhouse—just out of view of the streets. The windows were fogged, and the edges lined with grime. I maneuvered sideways and used my elbow to hit the latch to unlock it. The door swung freely, and I stepped inside, pivoting with my foot to catch it before it let all the warm air out.

  I slammed it
shut with my hip, and the lock rattled in its latch. Outside the wind howled, but inside the heat lamps kept it warm. I took my hands out of my pockets and slowly uncurled them to pick up a tiny white basket next to the door.

  Foliage of all types grew here. From bell peppers and onions, to rosemary, thyme, and tons of other greenage I had no idea about. Even with the heat lamps, I wondered how they got it all to flourish so well. Then again, they didn’t have to work the same when they had magic at hand. Señora Rosara probably cast a couple of spells over the place and they had a nearly never-ending food supply. The thought left me a little bitter even if I was currently benefiting from it.

  I rounded up anything that looked ripe enough to eat, hoping that Nathalie’s cooking was better than my own and she could make something from it. I was just starting my second pass around the room when the air thickened.

  I stumbled, the basket slipping from my fingers.

  It wasn’t darkness and fire that enveloped me.

  But the cool touch of ice over bare sensitive skin. Desire so sharp it cut into me. I canted forward, barely catching myself with a firm hold on the oak table as I doubled over gasping.

  The greenhouse faded around me, though I could still feel it physically. My feet were firmly on the floor, my abdomen pressed into the wooden table. The rough grain dug into the pads of my fingers—but instead, I found myself in a dimly lit room. Stones lined the floor, steps, and walls. Red dripped from a bloody pentagram in the center of the floor.

  “Piper.”

  It was a wheeze. A cough. Barely a breath whispered in the dark, dank space.

  I squinted through the shadows at the figure on the floor.

  “Get out of here,” he said. Golden eyes flashed, if only for a moment.

  I blinked rapidly.

  His white hair was flaking and stained dark brown. Blood.

  I stepped closer in my vision, though my actual body didn’t move. “Don’t—”

  Too late.

  The pentagram flared, and with it, so did the candlelight. I winced at the mangled mess of a body that was Lucifer. His branded chest had been carved open. Long slits ran down the inside of his arms, and blood seeped in between crevices in the stone.