Shadowdance: The Darkest London Series: Book 4

by Kristen Callihan

  Indeed, she looked over her shoulder before rubbing her arms in an agitated fashion. “I feel it. Like someone is plucking on my sleeve.” She shuddered. “I… I can’t! I don’t want to die.”

  “Well, who does?” Daisy mused. However, her head tilted as she eyed the spirit thoughtfully. “Would you really rather stay? Even if it meant you never died?”

  “Is this a true question?” Her accent, now that Mary turned her attention to it, was flat and hard. An American. Likely fresh off the boat.

  “She has spirit,” Daisy said to Mary.

  “She’s a strange one.” Most newly dead sobbed or went into hysterics over their destroyed bodies. Mary had. Best not to think about those memories.

  The woman quirked a brow at Mary. “Says the woman who rushed in like a crazed banshee and beat down three full-grown men.”

  “She’s in shock,” Daisy said to Mary with a smile.

  Mary could not help but smile too. “Likely you’re right.”

  The strange woman nodded. “I agree. Likely I’ll soon…” She wavered, and her throat bobbed on a swallow. “Can we move on, please?”

  Mary could not fault her. The mere fact that she knelt next to a dead body threatened to make her sight go black. She kept her eyes firmly upon Daisy. “We could…”

  Daisy’s eyes widened. “We could,” she agreed.

  Mary’s gaze snapped to the hovering spirit, who seemed about to attempt jumping back into her old body. “You’d be a slave. For however long he deems.”

  The woman blinked. “Who is ‘he’?”

  “The man who can give you back your life,” Daisy said simply.

  “Will it involve…” The spirit’s nose scrunched up. Being women, none of them had to say more.

  “No,” said Mary emphatically. “You will have to find other willing spirits for him.”

  “For what reason?”

  “Well, there is the rub,” said Daisy a bit sadly. “Only he knows. Some he allows to return to their bodies and live life out as we are now. Others he takes with him. Though he promises no harm will come to them, no one here knows what happens to those souls.” Her blue eyes grew solemn. “You will not know until it is your turn.”

  It was a devil’s bargain to be sure. Yet Mary had never regretted her decision. She supposed that was the unifying factor for all GIM: they simply loved life too much to lose theirs, even if their circumstances were less than pleasant. Did it make them selfish? Wrong somehow? She wondered every time another was offered the choice, every time she speculated on where the others went.

  “Fine.” The spirit drew herself up and set her hands upon her hips once more. “I accept.”

  No hesitation. Mary had to admit, the woman had more will to live than most. Adam would love that about her. Which would also put the woman in a dubious position.

  “Well, then,” said Daisy. Yet her hand fluttered in the vicinity of her heart, not quite able to press it there.

  Mary understood and rested a hand on Daisy’s limp one. “You know how?”

  “Of course.” Daisy grimaced. “You sure?” she asked the spirit.

  The woman’s form gained strength, glowing bright in the darkened alley. She wouldn’t look at her body, but only at Daisy and Mary. “Ought we not hurry?”

  “Your body is safe for now,” Daisy murmured, but her gaze stayed resolutely away from it.

  Mary knew why Daisy hesitated. The process of becoming a GIM was not pretty, or clean. And meeting their maker was always disconcerting. On a variety of levels.

  With a sigh, Daisy pressed her hand against her clockwork heart and murmured the words that would call Adam forth. Instantly the air about them grew hot and florid with the smoky scent of myrrh and something darkly cloying. The effect of that fragrance upon Mary was instantaneous. Heat washed over her, tightening her nipples and making her sex throb. It was most unfortunate, and not a sensation she enjoyed, given what caused it. By the look of Daisy’s pinched lips, she too was affected and not happy either. Then again, their creator’s scent had that effect on men as well as women, so they could hardly be shamed.

  On the heels of the scent came the darkness, black and endless as it coalesced on a spot just next to them until it formed the shape of a doorway.

  The spirit at Mary’s side fluttered, her eyes wide. “What is it?”

  “Hush.”

  The echoing of footsteps, as if coming from far off, sounded. And the scent grew thicker, richer, making sweat bloom upon Mary’s skin and her clockwork heart go just a bit faster. She took a steadying breath and tried to ignore the shiver working through her body.

  Through the darkness he came, his step jaunty and arrogant. Mary swallowed. Gracious, but the demon was sin incarnate. Tall and lean, black hair tousled about without care, and light-amber eyes beneath thick, stern brows. His aquiline nose would be considered too big on a lesser face, his mouth an angry slash, yet somehow plump and inviting. Such intense masculine beauty was dizzying.

  Oftentimes Mary wondered if Adam was an incubus. Especially when he smiled as if he knew exactly how he stirred their emotions, and his deep, rich voice rumbled over them like heated cream.

  “My delicious daughters,” he said fondly. “My most lovely creations. How may I be of service?”

  Daisy cleared her throat, a high blush warring with eyes flashing in annoyance. “My lord Adam, we have one who desires to join.”

  His gaze was a palpable caress. It slid warm and sticky over Mary to rest on the silent spirit. Adam’s nostrils flared as he drew in a deep, sharp breath. Odd, as he was never anything other than nonchalant or flirty.

  “Your name?” His lazy tone had gone clipped. The loose-limbed way in which he normally carried himself tensed.

  The spirit narrowed her eyes, her gaze sliding up and down Adam’s form as though inspecting something distasteful. “Eliza May.”

  “Mmm.” It came out as a dubious rumble. Adam flicked his attention to Mary. “I’ll have a word with you, sweet Mary Chase—”

  “And you are?” Eliza May cut in, her translucent hands upon her hips.

  “Not to be interrupted, treats.” Adam’s expression was hard and cold.

  Eliza lifted her chin. “I’ve a right to know your name, sir.”

  With a smile that chilled the bone, Adam sauntered over to the hovering spirit. When he reached out to trace the line of her cheek, his finger did not drift through her, but made contact, as though she were flesh still. “My Lord and Master, My Irresistible Liege,” he murmured in his rich purr. “Pick whichever one you want. Then shut up. I am speaking, and not to you.”

  His gaze moved to Mary but stopped as he spied Eliza’s body lying bloodied and battered upon the cobbles, her skirts still rucked up, a pool of blackening blood widening about her head like a macabre halo. His lips flattened as his eyes glowed so brightly that the area about them was illuminated with golden light. Mary had seen the reaction before, and it never failed to unnerve. But she understood. Violence against women was something he could not abide.

  Eliza, seeing the direction of the demon’s gaze, swished over her body as though she might hide it. “Don’t look at me, it.” Her teeth bared in a snarl. “At my body.”

  “Why?” he asked, mildly. “It’s dead. And if you want to keep it, it’s also mine.”

  Eliza flinched, her mouth gaping before snapping shut. “I thought… they said that you wouldn’t want…”

  The glow in Adam’s eyes returned, not as bright, but quite fierce. “Devil take it. I quite literally have beings knocking against each other for the opportunity to have me.” Indeed, ghosts stuck between worlds had gathered, bumping against the periphery of the alleyway as though held back by an invisible wall. The silent, wraiths twisted and undulated in unmistakable entreaty. “I’ve no interest in unwilling, prissy misses.”

  Eliza’s mouth curled in distaste. “Oh, how the other ghouls must envy you.”

  The air about them trembled and heated. Adam took a
step in Eliza’s direction. “Let us get this over with. Will you swear fealty to me?”

  “What would I have to—”

  “Yes or no. Right now, Miss May.”

  Eliza May glanced between Mary and Daisy, her expression unsure and pained. They could not speak now, nor assuage her. It was forbidden. But Mary tried to convey that it would be all right with a soft look.

  “Tick-tock, Eliza.”

  “All right.” She drew herself up. “I swear it.”

  The triumph in Adam’s expression was absolute, and not what Mary was accustomed to seeing. “Excellent.” With a flick of his wrist he conjured a thin golden chain. Lightning-fast, it coiled around Eliza’s spirit and her body. Adam gave the chain a lazy tug, and Eliza flew into her body. A great gasp broke from her lips as her body arched off the ground, then flopped back, struggling against the golden bonds like a fish in a net.

  Mary and Daisy looked on in horror. This was nothing like their times. Nor were the ones taken bound in gold. Before they could say a word, Eliza May disappeared, and they were left alone with Adam.

  “Good Lord, Adam,” Daisy said, her eyes beginning to glow. “What have you done to her?”

  He waved an idle hand. “Nothing you need worry over.” His expression brooked no argument. “Now, then, doves, as neither of you is indebted to me for souls, I consider this a personal boon.” Something wicked and altogether unsettling flickered in his gaze. “Therefore”—he reached out, and the hot, dry tips of his fingers touched their foreheads—“a gift.” An electric buzz shimmered through Mary, delicious and heady before ending in a warm glow.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  His smile was brief. “Motherhood.”

  As if she had been pinched, Daisy let out a garbled squawk. “Did you…” She colored furiously. “Did you just impregnate us?”

  Adam’s full-throated laughter echoed along the brick walls. “Hell’s bells, no.” His eyes watered as he tried to calm himself, and Daisy huffed. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “You do not need me for that, sweets. Unless you’d like to?” He waggled his dark brows, and Daisy huffed again.

  “But we are…” Daisy waved a helpless arm. “You know…” She stopped there, her face flaming, which Mary had to admit was rather amusing, seeing as Daisy could wax lyrical about sexual topics without care.

  Adam eyed her with a mixture of wry caution and good humor. “If I may be so bold, darling, but do you experience your courses?” His mouth twitched. “I shall take the shade of crimson on your cheeks as a yes. Which means there is nothing stopping you.”

  His gaze slid over both of them. “You aren’t corpses, for pity’s sake. You are life anew, better and more precious because you asked for it with eyes wide open.” He sniffed in annoyance. “I swear, do none of my flock pay attention when I tell you the rules upon creation?”

  Mary was rather glad to hear she was not expecting and had to smile at his chastisement. She’d known, but hadn’t realized Daisy was ignorant of that particular part of her nature. “My lord, would you explain what you meant by ‘motherhood’?”

  His smile was beatific. “Simply that you may choose to create another. Only one, mind. No need for us to get carried away.”

  Mary and Daisy blinked. Shock coursed through Mary’s bones. She could create a GIM? The notion was at once horrid and fascinating. “I…” Mary took a breath and curtsied. “You honor us, my lord.”

  “I know. Choose wisely, my doves. Creation is the most intimate act one can do. That soul will be bound to you, helpless as a babe until you choose to set it free. Even after, you will always feel a connection.”

  “But how do we—” Daisy’s question was cut off with a wave of Adam’s hand.

  “I cannot dally all night. Do as I do, and the rest will follow.” His attention turned to Mary. “Miss Chase. As I was trying to say before, I suggest you keep an eye on that man of yours.”

  “Why?” Mary would not contradict the demon by protesting that Jack was not hers, but his words left her tight and cold.

  Adam’s mouth curled, revealing small but sharp fangs. “I do not take threats against my children lightly. I do believe that Jack Talent will soon find himself in the thick of a great one. Some beings were never meant to be GIM.”

  “You mean the shadow crawlers.”

  His expression grew pained. “Mix any sort of demon flesh with metal, and you will find yourself with a disaster on your hands.” His gaze leveled on her, and she felt the immense power he held within him. “Do not let it happen, Miss Chase.”

  Dawn was slow in coming for Mary. She was being watched. She knew it with the same certainty with which she knew her name was Mary Chase. The sensation whispered over her skin like spider silk and crept along her spine to nip at her neck. An unnerving distraction that robbed her of peace and kept her awake.

  It was not a new sensation. It had come and gone for some time. Too long. So long that she was almost used to the feeling. Almost, but not quite. Had she not the ability to see spirits, Mary would have wondered if her house was haunted, for the sensation of eyes upon her nearly always occurred when she was in her home.

  “Nonsense,” she muttered, and tossed back her bedcovers. The white light of morning was shining through her curtains as she crossed the cool floors and headed for her front room. Still she could not shake the sticky feeling. For someone accustomed to doing the watching, it was not only unnerving but an affront.

  Two tall windows dominated her parlor. Framed by cream velvet curtains, the windows gleamed like a pair of bright eyes, watching. The desire to draw the curtains fully closed prompted Mary to do the opposite. She stalked right up to them, yanked them wide, and pressed her nose to the icy glass.

  She spotted him immediately, the sight giving her a start. Crouched on the corner of the opposite roof like some gargoyle of old, his black-cloaked shape formed a hulking silhouette against the lemon-yellow sky.

  The gears in her heart nearly stopped, then sped up. But she knew that body, and the distinct shape of that head. Jack Talent.

  Her palm spread wide upon the window, the heat of her body emitting waves of condensation along the glass. The light was in her eyes, and he merely a black outline. But then a cloud scuttled over the sun, and his eyes gleamed, looking straight at her. And she felt that gaze as if it were a living, breathing beast upon her. Slowly he stood, his tall form perfectly balanced upon the jutting roof edge. And simply watched her.

  Her body tightened. Had he always watched her? It couldn’t be so. But for a moment, she felt certain that he had.

  As if he’d been waiting to see her reaction, he raised his arm then and gave her a graceful salute. The next moment he was gone, leaving with inhuman speed.

  Mary stared at the spot where he had stood. The salute ought to have been a mockery. Only it felt like an acknowledgement, and a message. Stranger still, his actions did not feel like revenge. Nor did it feel as if she were being watched, as much as watched over. As she put the kettle on and prepared for the day ahead, she realized that the idea of Talent doing the watching made her feel safe. And wasn’t that the most unnerving sensation of all?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Today would be a late day. Because the Bishop of Charing Cross appeared to do his work at night, so must they. Which was fine by Mary. She needed a bit of space between her and Talent and was happy to wait until luncheon to meet him. Then again, dining with Talent had its own pitfalls.

  “Do you ever stop eating, Mr. Talent?” Mary pursed her lips at the spectacle that was Jack Talent gorging on his fifth meat pie.

  He paused as though surprised she was speaking to him, then his dark eyes looked at her sidelong. “Stay with me long enough, and you might find out.” He popped the last golden bite into his mouth, then licked his lips with a flick of his pink tongue. Somehow he managed to grin while chewing. His throat worked on a swallow, and that grin grew teeth. “Besides, I told you I like eating.”

  How h
e was able to make the statement both carnal and irritating, she’d never know. Mary set her attention on the report spread open on the table in front of her. Talent, adamantly eschewing the quiet containment of headquarters, had dragged them out to yet another tavern, this one being loud, smoky, and crowded. It did, however, serve an excellent supper, as Talent was quick to point out when she’d voiced her annoyance.

  Unfortunately she had to admit to herself that the tavern afforded a level of anonymity they would not receive at headquarters. Too many regulators took it upon themselves to make a study of Talent and Mary. She feared there might even be a betting pool going on about just when and how they’d kill each other.

  Lousy, busybody rotters. True, tempers between her and Talent were strained. But they were partners, like it or not, and she intended to behave in a sensible manner from here on out. She would not think of breathless, voyeuristic pleasures, or near kisses, or nighttime vigils.

  It did not help matters when Talent suddenly gave her a slow perusal, lingering along the length of her bodice where the satin lay smooth and tight over her torso. Heat prickled along her skin, and she bristled. He could not look at her in this manner. Not if she wanted to get through the day.

  As if he was annoyed, his mouth turned down at one corner. “You’re looking rather turned out today, Mistress Chase.” His low voice turned into a drawl. “Why do I suspect I will not like the reason?”

  “I could not fathom.” Mary ordered her papers into a neat stack and was quite proud that her hands did not shake.

  “Do not tell me you’re dressing to impress that popinjay Darby.” Talent’s scowl grew sour, his nostrils flaring.

  They were slated to watch Darby later this evening. A prospect Mary did not find remotely appealing. Even so, she could only shake her head slightly at Talent’s absurd accusation. “Perhaps I dressed for you.”

  She said it to unnerve, and his open mouth and flushed cheeks had her fighting a grin, but she hid it and stuck to the business at hand. “I took a look at Mr. Pierce’s financial situation—”