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

by Adkins, Heather Marie

  “Someone get Henri!” Keagan demanded, his words slurred with fury. He kicked Lysander in the calves, sending him to his knees. “Drop your weapon.”

  Lysander did so without any hesitation. His eyes, though, never left Avrum.

  “Get Henri! Someone! Now!” Keagan grabbed Lysander by the arm and jerked him hard. “You’ve done it this time, you French bastard. I’ll see to it that you are killed for this.”

  “Go on, get him,” Lysander’s thin lips said to Avrum again. “Get Henri.”

  10

  Haven couldn’t stand this dusty, old attic a moment longer. How long did Avrum expect her to wait here? Now that she thought about it, it seemed she was waiting for him a lot lately. Haven looked across the room at the weapon trunk. Her short sword sat on top of it.

  She could kill Henri now if she wanted to. She had a sword. But that was a foolish thought, she knew. He was stronger than she was by far, and she had never wielded a weapon before in her life. She had been somewhat skilled with Henri’s letter opener. The amusing thought made her smile. She had cut him, and he hadn’t suspected a thing.

  All pleasure, though, left her within the next moment. Henri would snap her neck before she could even lift the sword. She sighed. Waiting, it seemed, was the only thing she could do.

  Haven let her gaze roam the room. The last time she was here, she and Avrum had been intimate with each other. He had taken her without hesitation. There were no threats, no pain. Just the thought of their bodies pressed against each other again made her knees weak.

  She turned away from the wall and the memory, feeling heat rise to her face. How silly to be embarrassed by such a thing.

  The thudding of boots on the attic stairs awoke her from her thoughts. The door opened, revealing a very frantic and disheveled Avrum. “Haven,” he half-choked her name as he closed the door behind him a little too hard. The doorframe rattled and the hinges whined. If she was supposed to be hiding up here, surely someone had heard the noise. Her chest tightened with fear.

  “Haven,” he said again, “Lysander has killed Cornelius.”

  Haven’s brows rose. “Cornelius?” Then why did he look so frightened? “That’s good, isn’t it? He was a brute.”

  Avrum closed the distance between them and held her by the arms. “No, you don’t understand. He was the distraction. Lysander. He’s sacrificed himself.”

  Her mouth hung open, her voice caught in her throat.

  “He could be banished for this. Or even killed. Henri had him hauled away. He’s been locked in the servants’ quarters until Henri decides―” His eyes roamed her face as if he was hoping for her to tell him what to do next. There was a pause, and then he added, “I cannot believe he did this.”

  Perhaps this Lysander fellow was much more than he seemed.

  Haven stepped back so that Avrum’s grip would fall off her. He still stared at her with his dark chestnut eyes, pupils dilated. “He did not tell you anything about his plans?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “There was no discussion of it. Not in the least.” He swallowed hard. “By the time I realized it, Cornelius’ head was rolling onto the ground. I was too late to stop it.”

  Haven winced at the thought of a bloody head detached from a body. She had never known if there was a true way to kill these creatures. She rubbed her own neck, grateful all was still intact. “A-Are you sure he was dead?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “What happens now?” She hated to admit it, but she was terrified. Truly and utterly terrified.

  Avrum rubbed his forehead and drew in a deep breath. “You will go to your room,” he said on the exhale. His voice was steady that way. “I will send for a guard to be placed in front of your door. Anyone who wants entrance will have to come ask me. And if Henri calls for you, I must be informed. I will hide you here again if so.” He glanced over his shoulder at the attic door. “I have to get to Lysander.”

  “Keep that on you always,” he told her, pointing at the sword on the trunk.

  “I will.”

  He kissed her then, his lips firm yet careful. All she wanted to do was melt into Avrum’s embrace and have him soothe her as she let go of her fears.

  When he pulled away, he looked down at her. Sadness and concern weighted his gaze. His cool hand found hers and their fingers interlaced. He held on tight. Haven waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. She could sense the unsaid words hovering between them. He was scared just as much as she was.

  She reminded herself that they both needed to be strong in order to survive this. She was willing to risk everything for that freedom and so was he.

  With hands still linked, they left the attic together and descended the stairs.

  * * *

  From the tall windows of the library, Henri watched the fire of Cornelius’ funeral pyre flicker and extinguish. That was it. The man was gone, and this time there was no second chance. Ashes to ashes, he thought then hated himself for it. The phrase brought Malcolm back to his thoughts. Sighing, Henri massaged the throbbing place above both his brows. Some men still lingered to pay their respects to Cornelius and watch the black smoke rise. Keagan was among them, standing as still and as brood as the many silhouette trees behind him.

  Henri tried to keep his eyes focused on the scene below, but his vision blurred. He ground his teeth. He did not have time for the nonsense and idiocy of men. One was dead, the other locked underground, and for what? A childish game of swords? The thought of losing control terrified him. He could not let that happen.

  Although he and Lysander shared a past, it did not give him permission to disobey rules and take advantage of his kindness. Especially with the party and Malcolm so close...

  Had Cornelius’ death been done to make him look like a fool in front of his own maker, he wondered. Was Lysander planning something devious against him to make his own statement to Malcolm?

  He moved away from the window, his mind whirling with poisonous schemes. What a shame. Lysander had been the highest of his guard and the most talented with a sword. His return to the manor had proved to be quite useful. However, his indiscretions could not be ignored. The last thing Henri would allow himself to be was mocked. All this had to be dealt with before Malcolm and the others’ arrival. They had to see him at his best, and Lysander’s mishap weakened his leadership.

  How was he going to deal with this? Henri rubbed the aching muscles at the back of his neck. Even though Lysander’s death would be the most fair punishment, he was too valuable a man to kill.

  It was possible―Henri realized after some time―that he could use Lysander as a sort of example. His mistake and then redemption could be used as a model of Henri’s mercy and compassion, the very things Malcolm knew nothing of. Henri ran his fingertips across the fine stubble on his jaw and turned back to the window. Below, Keagan remained unmoving. Snow fluttered down from the steel-gray skies, catching and then disappearing on the dark jacket across his shoulders. Sparing Lysander’s life was not going to appear just in Keagan’s eyes, but it would be done with purpose.

  Besides, he mused remembering Linna, Haven, Avrum, and the countless others he had taken into his care, everyone deserved another chance to redeem themselves. If only, before his turning, he had been given the same choice.

  * * *

  Avrum had never visited the servant rooms before, but he had no trouble finding them. He descended the only wooden staircase off the kitchens and entered into a slender hallway, barely wide enough to fit his broad shoulders as he walked. Against the stone walls, only two of the gas lamps cut through the darkness. Unsure of how long the hall was, he walked slowly, passing doors on both sides. The sound of water dripping echoed from somewhere far off, and the smell of mold tickled his nose.

  “Avrum.” Lysander’s harsh whisper made him jump. “Avrum, over here.”

  Avrum ran over to the nearest door and leaned closer to the wood. “Lysander, are you there?”

  “
Yes,” he sighed.

  “Are you hurt at all?”

  “Not beside my pride.”

  Avrum looked from left to right, expecting to see a guard but seeing none.

  “Keagan left,” Lysander said as if reading his mind. “Fils de salope. But he should be back any minute now.” Even though Avrum couldn’t see him, he had a feeling he was rolling his eyes then. “He gets great enjoyment out of keeping me here, but he was a little wounded that I wasn’t sentenced to the guillotine.”

  Avrum tried not to smile. The thought of displeasing Keagan did bring him some satisfaction.

  “Keagan may be outside watching the end of Cornelius’ service,” Avrum said. “Henri had his body set on a pyre and burned.”

  “Ah,” he said, “ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

  There was a pause between them.

  “Lysander?” Avrum leaned in closer to the door and lowered his voice even more. “Those… scars on your arm. How―”

  There was a loud, shaken sigh followed by the rustling of cloth. “Malcolm,” he said.

  “Malcolm gave them to you?”

  “Yes,” he replied, his tone unchanging. “He marks all he turns. I am just one of many.”

  “Does that mean Henri has scars?” Avrum asked. He was almost scared for the answer.

  “He hides his as well.”

  Avrum remembered the vicious lines across Lysander’s forearm. The raised, pink flesh zigzagged in a way that made it look like it had been done on purpose. He wondered where Henri concealed his.

  “Why does he do this? I just don’t understand it.”

  “Malcolm searches for those who are loyal to the old ways and for those who have wasted their lives living in sin. The latter are given one chance to redeem themselves…” His voice wavered, and he stopped for a long moment. Avrum waited.

  Lysander cleared his throat and began again. “If they cannot, he brands them with their sin and curses them. They must live forever with their guilt and without salvation.”

  “He’s mad.”

  “You must remember,” Lysander went on, “Malcolm is one of the first of us. Created in a time when faith was the only explanation for living. Things were much different then.”

  “But he is no god. He cannot condemn men this way. I’m sure your life before this was nothing―”

  “No.” The power in his voice made Avrum jump. “My life before this was everything it should not have been.”

  Avrum pressed his lips into a hard line, glancing down the dark hall once again.

  “I deserve worse than what Malcolm gave me,” Lysander said.

  Those words made Avrum’s heart ache even more. Lysander had been nothing more than a loyal friend to him throughout everything―especially now, risking his life to help Haven and Emma escape without asking for anything in return. How could anyone like that deserve to be scarred in such a way and damned for eternity?

  “I haven’t seen him since the night I was turned,” said Lysander. “I never thought I would ever see him again until I heard Henri had invited him to this little fête.”

  “Do you think he will come?”

  “It’s hard to say,” he replied. “Malcolm is not known for showing up when he is expected to, but Henri is determined to have him there.”

  “Why is that?”

  He sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. My guess is that Henri wants to prove something to him. Show him all the good he has done with the curse he had been given. It is why he takes people in, like you and many, many others, and puts on this show of perfection.”

  Avrum’s thoughts rushed instantly to Haven. “He destroys lives to make his seem perfect.”

  What else has Henri lied about? To his own surprise, his thoughts went to the fire at his family’s farm and to own his mother and brother. Could Henri be responsible for tampering with his life too?

  “Yes, well, now you know one of the reasons Malcolm chose him.”

  Hard footsteps came from above, and with every step, dust swirled and dirt fell from the wooden planks that made up the ceiling. Avrum froze.

  “Keagan,” whispered Lysander, answering his thoughts.

  Avrum moved away from the door, wishing that he didn’t have to leave his friend this way. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow night once the guests start to arrive,” he promised.

  “Yes, please,” Lysander said with a dry laugh, “because I am desperately looking forward to the party.”

  * * *

  Alone in her bedroom, Haven started to undress. She stepped out of her thick gown, relieved once the heavy material left her body. She slipped out of her heeled boots and kicked them aside. The pins came out of her hair. She let them fall onto the floor.

  Haven turned to face the standup mirror below the barred window. Just in her thin slip made of cotton, laced up corset, and neutral stocking, her curious and half-dressed reflection stared back at her. A mass of dark curls cascaded down her front, but she could still see the two raised bruises on her neck hiding underneath. Across her cheek, the pink mark from Henri’s ring stood out despite the rosiness of her skin. Was she beautiful? She had never thought herself as such. She had always felt torn and broken, never beautiful, no matter how many times Henri had said she was. With the custom-made gowns and gaudy jewelry, she had played the part of beautiful, but never truly was.

  The layers of clothing had been stripped away, and she stood there naked and vulnerable with only the truth staring back at her. Her father was still gone. The pain of his death weighed heavy in her chest. There were still rope burns on her wrists, cuts on her face, and bruises on her neck, chest, and arms. Haven certainly looked like she was in pieces, but there was something different about her this time. Somehow she felt...whole.

  Her reflection’s eyes widened as the word came to her mind. What had changed in her life to make her feel this way?

  Avrum. The answer came to her at once. She had gained the pulse of life again the moment Avrum had offered her his scarred hand. Again when he pressed his lips against hers for the first time in this very room, and once more when they had explored and shared each other in the old attic space.

  Was it beauty she was feeling? Was it love? Her mirrored-self smiled back at her. She guessed it was.

  Hushed voices came from outside her bedroom door. Keys jingled, and she heard the lock release. Haven wrapped her arms around herself. Over her reflection’s shoulder, she watched the door open.

  She drew in a deep breath as Avrum walked in. When he saw her standing there exposed to him, he stopped. Heat rose in her face and traveled to her lower belly. His eager eyes roamed her body and his lips parted from hunger. He took three steps forward, but stopped himself just behind her. When his darkened gaze met hers through the mirror, she could see the battle raging inside him. She stayed still, wondering what he might do.

  “Haven,” he breathed her name. Her insides trembled at the amount of desire weighted in his tone.

  She licked her lips, and seeing it, he took another step forward. Avrum’s hands came up and touched her shoulders. Her body relaxed as they slid down her arms. He closed the space between them. She could feel the rigid muscles of his chest on her back and the stiffness of his groin pressed against her bottom. His warm breath tickled the hollow of her neck.

  Avrum’s fingers made their way across her elbows to the center of her crossed arms. They fiddled with the string tie there at the center of her breasts. The knot pulled free, and the material slipped away.

  She moaned as he reached under the fabric and released one of her naked breasts. He found her exposed nipple and rubbed it with the pad of his finger. She tried to turn around to face him, but his free hand fell to her hip to hold her in place. He played with the tip as he laid hot kisses on her neck. She shuddered.

  “Oh, Avurm…” she gasped as her knees weakened.

  Avrum kissed up to her ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. He gathered up the fabric at her thigh and slipped his hand underneath. His fi
ngers brushed her sex.

  She could do nothing but watch him through the mirror. His eyes were hooded with lust as he watched her responses to his movements. As he slipped a finger inside her, Haven’s breath caught. He grinned against her throat.

  His thumb found her most sensitive area and circled it. Her hips moved to match the rhythm. Haven opened wider for him and pushed into his hand. Avrum slid another digit inside. He caressed her silky sheath, in and out, until she moaned his name again. His upper hand moved to her other breast.

  Haven’s body tightened, the pleasure mounting. She gasped as she reached her peek. She felt dizzy all of a sudden, and she sagged against him, breathing ragged.

  Avrum turned her around and captured her mouth with his. His tongue danced with hers as he wrapped his arms around her to hold her collapsing body upright. He moved her closer to the bed, and she reached down to find the fasten to his trousers.

  “Move aside,” a voice from outside the door made them both halt. Her body felt as if it had been dunked in ice water. “I am Haven’s caretaker. I am the one to be stationed at her door.”

  It was Keagan. Haven looked up at Avrum, terrified. He hushed her with a shake of his head.

  “I was told this was my post,” the unknown guard replied.

  “By whom?”

  “By Brenin.”

  Keagan growled. The shadows beneath the frame shifted. “I am the head of the guard, and I order you to disregard the command and renounce your post,” he said.

  Haven’s pulse quickened. Would Keagan come in? If they were discovered, she would never be able to see Avrum again.

  “I’m sorry, Keagan, but I was given strict orders from Brenin to remain here until he gave word. He is Lord Henri’s second.”

  Keagan shouted curses at him.

  As they continued to argue, Haven smoothed the bottom of her frock and retied the knot to hide her cleavage. She went to reach for her gown on the floor, but Avrum pulled her back up by the hand.