Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Adkins, Heather Marie

  When they turned down Lysander’s corridor, Avrum felt himself speeding up his pace in order to keep up with his friend’s strides. He wondered where they were going and how they were going to keep this secret from Henri. It had been hard enough to lie to him. How was he going to manage this?

  “There is one more floor above us now,” said Lysander in a low whisper. “The rooms are mostly empty, but some guests do stay there.”

  “Is that where we are going?” he asked. They went through a small hallway and up another set of stairs. “One of the empty rooms?”

  He shook his head. “We are going above even that. The grenier.”

  Avrum paused, confused.

  Lysander looked over his shoulder. “The attic,” he said.

  At the end of the hall, another staircase rose reaching up into the blackness. Without hesitation, Lysander ascended with Avrum close behind. The squeaking of the old wood under his polished shoes was the only sound.

  The closer they came to the door at the top, the more difficult it was for Avrum to catch his breath. “Lysander―” Avrum called out, the fear starting to set in. “The sun.” He could feel himself slowing down and saw that the distance between them was growing

  “You must keep up,” was all Lysander said. He was already at the door, his hand on the door handle, waiting.

  Avrum sucked in as much breath as he could hold and continued on. By the time he reached Lysander, his skin felt as if it was on fire, but the expression on his friend’s face read nothing but indifference.

  In one swift motion, Lysander opened the attic door. The space was massive and empty with a slanted roof and a few small arched windows. None of their panes were covered, allowing the sun to shine freely through. Strips of white light cut across the boarded floor, and in the rays, flecks of dust danced to the rhythm of Avrum’s frenzied heart.

  Lysander stepped inside. “Step lightly,” he said. “Many boards are loose or missing.”

  Avrum looked down and saw that he was right. Pieces of the wood were either gone, splintered, or rotting away. A thick layer of dust had gathered there as well, disturbed only by Lysander’s steps.

  Avrum went inside, but made sure to stay against the wall where the light from the windows didn’t reach. He watched his friend as he moved with a cat-like grace across the room. He avoided the sun’s rays with little effort and went to a metal trunk at the opposite end. He opened it and rummaged through, pulling out two long swords.

  Avrum looked at him in shock. “Are we really going to practice in here?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Lysander said, “is there a problem?”

  Avrum glanced at the windows ignited with early morning sunlight and then at the wide gaps between the floorboards at their feet. If they didn’t burn alive, they could fall through to the floor below.

  One of Lysander’s blond brows rose, waiting.

  Was this really where they were going to hold practices? It was more dangerous than anything else.

  Despite his anxious thoughts and the rigid tension in his body, Avrum shook his head as a reply. If this was what he needed to do in order to train himself, so be it. Lysander was a great fighter, and he going to follow anything he said to become one too―as insane as it may be.

  Lysander handed him a sword, and the weight of the weapon surprised him. It was light and fit nicely in his grip. He twirled it in his hand and swung it back and forth.

  “Be cautious, Avrum. You don’t want to hurt yourself before we even begin.”

  Avrum stopped, but couldn’t fight the grin spreading across his lips.

  Lysander stepped into the middle of the attic with his own sword in his hand. He gestured for Avrum to follow. “We will begin with your footwork,” he said as Avrum came to stand before him. A strip of light from the center window separated them like a transparent wall. “Have you ever touched sunlight, Avrum? After your change?”

  What an odd question. “Of course not,” he said.

  To his horror, Lysander reached his one hand out.

  Avrum held his breath as the bare skin touched the golden light. He watched as Lysander closed his eyes and titled his head back, complete emotion washing off his face. His hand, though, began to hiss and crack, turning black from his long fingers to his wrist. Still, Lysander did not retract it.

  The skin began to curl back and flake, catching the air and flying away. The pungent smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils, and Avrum winced.

  “Lysander, please,” Avrum said, his voice wavering in panic. “I get it. Stop this.”

  Lysander’s gray eyes opened, and he withdrew his hand. Still, his face remained emotionless. “It’s a slow death,” he murmured, holding it up and examining the black, ragged skin. “Slow yet final.”

  Avrum swallowed. He wasn’t so sure about this.

  He watched as Lysander’s skin began to knit together and restore itself to its natural glossy, pale color. After a few moments, it seemed as if nothing had ever happened.

  “The sunlight here and the missing floor boards will help with your footwork and your attention.” He held out his sword and pointed the sharp tip at Avrum. “Are you ready?”

  Avrum looked around, nervous. Another patch of sun was at his back, and he was dangerously close to looking much like Lysander’s hand. With one wrong step, he could also fall through the ceiling to the floor below. Was he ready? Absolutely not.

  Before he could even raise his weapon or answer, Lysander took two quick swipes at him. Avrum leapt back, his body meeting the sun. It felt as if thousands of little sharpened needles were being stuck into the exposed skin on his face, hands, and neck at once. He jumped to the side clumsily, losing his footing to avoid a missing board and almost toppling over.

  “Watch yourself!” Lysander demanded. “You must be aware of your surroundings as well as yourself.”

  Avrum straightened up and tried to look around, but Lysander’s sword was too quick to allow him any time. He scrambled away just before the weapon could catch his shoulder.

  He looked at his friend with wide, fearful eyes. “Are you trying to kill me?” he shouted.

  “No, not yet.”

  Avrum glanced over his shoulder. Lysander had already backed him into a dark corner. There wasn’t anywhere else for him to go except forward.

  Lysander approached him with a predator’s poise, his blade glinting as he passed it from one hand to the other. “Come on, Avrum. You are making this too easy. I like a challenge,” he said. “Raise your sword! I do not train cowards.”

  “I’m not a coward.”

  “Show me then.” Lysander thrust his sword forward, and Avrum just dodged it.

  Lysander growled in annoyance. “Where is that drive you had before? Where is that anger? Or do you want Henri to continue to have his way with Haven?”

  Something stirred inside him, something wild, waking from its long slumber. Avrum’s grip tightened around the handle of his own weapon and his arm trembled. Lysander swung his sword again, but this time, Avrum’s met it in midair. The metal sparked before them, and they paused for a moment, staring at their crossed swords.

  “Of course I don’t,” Avrum said through clenched teeth.

  “I thought so,” Lysander said, a smirk lifting his lips. “Again.”

  His eyes followed Lysander’s sword as it flew through the air. He blocked it before it could make contact with his hip.

  “And again.”

  Lysander side stepped, causing Avrum to do the same. He moved around the sunbeams and avoided a wide gap in the floor at the same time. With every blow he met, his arm shook. His breathing became nothing more than a wheeze in his chest. He ducked, stepped back, stepped forward, and clashed their swords again.

  “Again,” Lysander said with more vigor. “Come on, Avrum!”

  Avrum went to move, but his foot sank into the floor. He twisted, knee giving out. He stumbled backward, hitting the planks with a hard thud. His sword fell away, out of reach, and wh
en he looked up, Lysander’s was already at his neck.

  “You’re dead,” he said. He lowered his sword and offered Avrum his hand instead.

  His shoulder ached and his legs wobbled as Lysander pulled him to stand on his own.

  “You did well for your first time,” said Lysander. “You were beginning to find your rhythm.”

  Avrum rubbed the back of his neck. His shirt was damp with perspiration. He drew in as much breath as he could, and said hoarsely, “You could have gone easier on me though.”

  “Easier?” Lysander laughed and shook his head, the loose gold hair dancing before his face. “That is as easy as it gets, I’m afraid.”

  Avrum glared at him.

  Lysander walked over, picked up Avrum’s sword, and tossed it to him. He caught it by the handle with both hands.

  “And it isn’t over yet,” he told him. Lysander raised his own blade and slid it against Avrum’s so that the metals let out a piercing screech. “Again.”

  * * *

  Pressing the side of her face against the cool metal bars, Haven looked outside. She saw nothing but the silhouette of trees against the silvery glow of the clouded sky. Her thoughts, though, remained with Avrum.

  She wondered what his life had been like before he was brought here. Had Henri given him a choice like he had given her? There was so much she did not know about him, and yet, she wanted to know more. If she was going to put her trust in this man, then she figured she deserved to know. It was for her own protection and Emma’s. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

  The thought of him plagued her. She found herself longing for him to touch her face again and look at her the tender way he had. She wanted to hear her name whispered on his lips, see the ache in his eyes. She almost craved it, and that alone was enough to make her feel like a fool.

  Her father was still all alone, wondering if she was alive or if, one day, she would come home to him. She should be thinking about him, how she was going to get to him. She should be, but she couldn’t. Not now.

  “Haven?”

  She held her breath at the sound of his voice on the other side of her bedroom door.

  “Haven… It’s me, Avrum.”

  But she knew that. She had been hearing his voice echoing in her head since he had left her the night before.

  “Haven? Are you there?”

  She went over to the door and pressed the palm of her hand against the wood. “Yes,” she said to it, “I’m here.”

  She heard his sigh of relief. “How are you feeling?”

  She felt a little foolish for speaking to him this way, but she answered, “Better.” It may have been the same response she gave Emma, but this time, she meant it. The hot water of the bath had soothed her aching muscles and had calmed her. She did feel better.

  Whispering came from the other side. Haven guessed Avrum was speaking to a guard passing by her room. She waited, silent. When the murmurs stopped and the sound of footsteps faded down the hall, she called out to him again, “Avrum?”

  “Yes, I’m here, Haven,” he said. “Can I come in?”

  She stepped away from the door. “Yes, of course.” She heard the tremble in her own voice. She hoped he hadn’t.

  There was a jingle of metal and then the click of her door unlocking. Avrum stepped inside and into the flickering yellow candlelight from her nightstand. The ivory shirt he wore was damp with perspiration, and because of it, she could make out the strong lines of muscle that made up his torso. She wondered how his body would feel under her hands. She swallowed.

  He had attempted to pull back his shoulder-length hair, but most of the strands hung freely on the sides of his face. His usual pale cheeks had gathered some color, and on his hip hung a sword. His brown eyes traveled up and down her body, leaving a trail of heat over her skin wherever they touched. When he met her gaze, a slight smile lifted his lips. “I see you have taken my suggestion,” he said.

  Haven paused, unsure by what he meant and by her body’s reaction.

  “The bath?” He chuckled, and the rich, soothing sound made her heart flutter. She touched the still-damp hair, which Emma had twisted into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she looked away.

  Avrum dipped his head, trying to capture her gaze again. When he did, he took a step toward her. Her breath caught in her throat.

  This is ridiculous, she thought. What is wrong with me?

  “Why did you come?” Her tone wavered. She fought to keep her face smooth and her uneasiness hidden. “I am sure it wasn’t just to see whether or not I bathed.”

  Avrum cleared his throat. “N-No, it wasn’t,” he replied.

  “Why then?”

  He took another step forward, his tall frame blocking the light of the candle. Haven shivered as shadows engulfed her. “Henri is planning another party,” he said, his eyes searching her face, “and he has asked for my help.”

  Her brow furrowed. “And you are going to give it to him,” she said, “after everything―”

  “I am, but only to make sure Henri does not grow suspicious.” Avrum paused. His attention fell to her lips.

  She tensed.

  “I want to help you leave here, Haven,” he said, “and I think the night of this party will be the best time to do it.”

  She felt herself nodding, but she couldn’t stop staring at his eyes. They were the warmest shade of brown she had ever seen.

  “Emma is coming as well,” Haven said once she had found her voice again. “I can’t leave her here.”

  “It will be dangerous…”

  “She knows. I told her.”

  He heaved a sigh. “All right, as long as she knows.”

  “Will you be coming with us?” The words left her mouth before she could catch them. “Or will you be staying here?” She hated how desperate she sounded too. Yes, she wanted him to come with them, but she didn’t want him to know it.

  He hesitated. “I would like to come with you. If you do not mind, of course.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Y-Yes, you can. I’m not going to stop you.”

  “I want to make sure you and Emma are safe,” he replied. “I do not want to leave you alone again.”

  His kindness warmed her, but the memory of her father kept a smile from surfacing. She glanced away. Her skin prickled on the side of her face where his stare still lingered. A strange feeling went through her. She wanted to tell him the truth about the choice Henri had given her, how her being here was the only thing keeping her father alive.

  “Haven…”

  She looked at him again. The concern in his eyes made her heart stop.

  “Avrum―” Her voice hitched, but she gritted her teeth and continued. “Do you know how I came here? How I became his... prisoner”

  “Haven―”

  “No,” she stopped him. “I know what I am. But do you know how I came be that way?”

  He didn’t look pleased. He replied with a soft, “No.”

  She folded her arms over her chest and walked to the window again. Her words brought her back to that night again, and as always, her vision glazed over with pending tears. She told him of the choice Henri had given her and the final deal she had made for her father’s life. At the end, she felt more vulnerable than ever. She turned to him and looked over the great space she had created between him.

  “You went with Henri to save your father from death,” Avrum concluded for her. “He lied about finding you, saving you. He’s lied about it all.”

  “I love my father,” she said. “He is all I have left.”

  Avrum pressed his lips together, as if he wasn’t sure what to say.

  “But I can’t ever go back to him. I can never go back…” Her voice cracked as more tears gathered in her eyes.

  He walked over to her until his body hovered only inches from hers. “I’m sorry…” he muttered. A gentle hand came up and caressed her arm from her elbow to her shoulder. Even through the rose velvet m
aterial of her dress’s sleeves, her skin tingled under his touch.

  She looked up at him. “I may not be able to see him,” she began, “but could you?”

  His hand fell away from her. He took a short step back, shock clear on his handsome face. “I can’t―”

  Her chest twisted and tightened. “You said you wanted to help me,” she gasped. It felt like most of her breath was still trapped in her lungs.

  “Haven, you have to understand…”

  When he reached for her again, she jerked her shoulder away from him.

  “You said you wanted to help in any way you could.”

  “I do, but Haven…”

  “No, no!” She felt a tear escape and slide down the side of her face. It felt icy against her hot, flushed cheek. Her body shook all over as the memory of the last night she had seen her father invaded her mind again. If she couldn’t escape Henri, then maybe she could make sure her father did.

  “That is what you said, and this is how you can help me. Just tell him that I am alive. Tell him that he has to leave, go somewhere far away from here, and that I will be with him soon. Please, Avrum. I can’t leave, but you can. Do this for me. Please.”

  He said nothing. The sound of her own ragged breathing roared in her ears, making her temples pound. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could say anything, Avrum sighed.

  “I will,” he whispered. “I will do it…”

  Avrum looked down at her, but this time there was no smile on his face like there had been the night before. No tenderness or sympathy in his eyes. His expression was grave, his gaze heavy.

  It was then that the seriousness of it all her struck her. He could be killed for this. They all could. She had a reason to want to risk it all. He had everything he could ever want here with his lord, and yet he was willing to throw it all away for her? He was willing to give up his own life to save hers?

  On that night, Henri had given her a choice, and she had chosen to give up her life for her father’s. She loved him. It had been what had made up her mind. Avrum was making the same decision now, but why?