Forsaken By Shadow (Mirus)

by Kait Nolan

  Everybody was staring at Matthias, including Embry, who wasn’t as good as her father at masking shock.

  “Do you have any corroborating evidence of this outlandish claim?” asked Ephraim in a tone that suggested he was going to be really pissed if there was any.

  Matthias reached into his coat pocket. “Indeed, my lord. I have lineage charts indicating that a maternal relative about eight generations back was of the Llewellyn line.”

  Gage sifted through his memories of Mirus history. Llewellyn. A branch of some of the more powerful European witches back in the day. Was Matthias totally pulling this out of his ass or was there something to this?

  Judging by the shade of magenta that crept up Ephraim’s face from the collar of his robes, apparently the paperwork looked legit. “I see.”

  “Given that Mr. Dempsey is not, in fact, your run of the mill human and does have a place in our world, however unconventional, I propose that the charges against each of the Hollisters be dropped. Which leaves only Agent Hollister’s insubordination. I am recommending, given the new intelligence that her crimes have brought to light, that the penalty for her actions be lowered to a month-long suspension. Additionally, I am recommending the immediate inclusion of Gage Dempsey as an operative on my squad of Shadow Walkers for future actions as pertain to the developing situation regarding the status of the veil. Pending medical treatment of his injuries, of course.”

  Gage had to admire the fae’s control. Despite his obvious fury, he managed to contain whatever powers he commanded. It took him almost a full minute before he could speak.

  “Your years of service have earned you some latitude in this forum, Matthias, but take care.” Ephraim took a deep, controlled breath. “We shall put it to a Council vote. Regarding the human involvement charges, all who believe the charges should be dropped, say aye.” The majority present spoke, hands raised.

  Would you look at that? Gage took in the assembly. Even the paranormals use Robert’s rules of order.

  Each charged was raised. Each was voted on. Matthias got his way.

  “With respect, your graces, I wish to get my people to medical care. They’ve had a rough night,” he said.

  After a few more formalities, they were escorted out of the Council chamber. No one spoke as they limped through the labyrinthine halls, but Gage reached out to stroke a hand down Embry’s back. She was shaking.

  Outside the infirmary, Matthias stopped and faced them. “Nothing I can say or do will change the last ten years. I did what I thought was right. I’m still doing what I think is right. Don’t make me regret it.”

  Adan nodded once in acknowledgement. Matthias started to go, but Embry’s hand shot out and caught his.

  “You didn’t have to give him back to me. Thank you.” Her voice was thick with emotion.

  Matthias made his own nod, then turned to Gage. “You think a two week furlough’s long enough to heal up?” He glanced at Embry. “Might be time for a quick vacation.”

  Lips twitching, Gage took his hand. “Yes, sir.”

  Then Matthias was gone.

  “So . . . do you think any of that was actually true?” asked Gage.

  “It would explain some things,” said Adan. “I never checked your ancestry once I brought you home. I should have.”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” said Embry. “I’m not going to question a miracle.”

  “It does seem like we’ve had more than our fair share tonight. You both took an awful risk coming after me. It was ill-conceived, insane, and you’re lucky we made it out alive. That having been said, thank you for not giving up on me.” He embraced them each in turn. “It’s good to have you back, son.” With a glance at his daughter, Adan twisted the knob on the infirmary door. “I’m just gonna . . . ” Then he slipped inside, leaving them alone in the hall.

  Gage turned to her, but she was looking down at the remains of her shirt, tied together across her chest. Blood was still seeping slowly from the wound in her shoulder. “Damn, I’m filthy. I wonder where the nearest shower is.”

  “Embry.” He took a step closer.

  “I mean surely I should be clean before they stitch me up in there.”

  “Embry,” he repeated, lifting a hand to cradle her cheek and force her gaze to his. “You’re rambling.”

  She moved in, pressing her face into his shoulder. Her voice was muffled, “I know I am. It’s just. . . ” she drew in a breath but it was shaky, “not real for me yet.”

  “What’s not real? That it’s over?”

  “This. You. You’re here. Legally. I never even considered that as a possibility. I can never repay him for that.”

  “Oh I think it puts you almost even for what he did to you.” Gage intended to even things a little more the next time he got Matthias in the sparring ring.

  “But no matter how I feel about it, you weren’t given a choice. You’ve never been given any kind of choice about this world. From the time my father took you in to the Council’s decision just now. We’ve pulled you along all your life saying ‘Here, do this.’ You have a whole other life that you built, and nobody’s ever stopped to ask you if you’re okay with this.”

  She tried to step back, but Gage didn’t release her. “You really need me to say it out loud? Okay then. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t know who you were, couldn’t remember your face, I remembered that I loved you. And I’ve been walking around for a decade with this big, empty hole in my chest.

  “I made a good life for myself. I’m not gonna deny that I moved on enough to do that. And I did my best to fill the space with new friends, new memories, and even some really good fights. But nothing could—nothing can, ever take your place in my heart. Matthias and his bullshit machinations just saved my life—again—and gave me a place in yours. And yeah, no matter what strings may be attached, I’m okay with that.”

  “Yeah.” Embry sniffed, blinking against the sheen of tears. “Okay, good.”

  Gage smiled at her then, mentally shaking his head. God, how he loved this woman. Even when the crisis was over, when it was just the two of them and any normal woman would throw herself into his arms and start wailing like a banshee—and hey, now he actually knew just what that sounded like—Embry still had to have her pride.

  Because she was his match, in every way.

  “Come on,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist, “I think you could use a few stitches, and then we’ve got two weeks to figure out how to fill. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get my Happily Ever After on.”

  Note From The Author

  Thank you for joining me on this little adventure in paranormal romance. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Forsaken By Shadow is the first novella in a series about the Mirus world. I decided to use it as a bit of a marketing experiment to see if I could build an audience and some name recognition. If you enjoyed Forsaken By Shadow, I would so appreciate if you would take the time to review it wherever you purchased it.

  To keep up with upcoming releases, you can follow my blog at http://kaitnolan.com. I adore email from fans or fellow writers, and I can be reached via email at kaitnolanwriter@gmail.com. I also spend a lot of time on Twitter as kaitnolan.

  For a sneak peak at the next Mirus novella, Devil’s Eye, keep reading.

  Devil’s Eye

  By Kait Nolan

  “Hurricane Roy has been upgraded to a category three as it continues to veer off its projected path to Florida and curves toward the Louisiana coastline. Meteorologists are scrambling to explain the sudden change in direction.”

  Storm shutters rattled as another clap of thunder announced the coming storm.

  Nothing good can come of this, thought Mick as he tore his eyes from the huge high def TV to take in the patrons jammed practically shoulder to shoulder in his bar as they danced to the zydeco band raising the roof.

  It wasn’t that New Orleans couldn’t take another beating. She’d
survived and come back after Katrina, scarred but stronger. But storms didn’t naturally change tracks like this. Not without . . . outside intervention. The whole thing made Mick twitchy.

  He covered his unease by sliding a pint of Bass down the bar, where it slapped into the waiting hand of a customer. The warlock lifted the glass in salute and took a sip. Mick nodded and turned to scan the crowded tables of his bar, noting the mix of Mirus and human patrons as he filled orders on autopilot. The fiddle was hot and fast, and across the room feet tapped, hands clapped, and couples swirled in impromptu dancing. It was a full house, locals mostly, who’d decided to settle in for a last-minute hurricane party in the event the storm bitch slapped New Orleans. There was a betting pool on where Roy would hit and what category it would be when it did. Le Loup Garou was on the high ground and was buttoned down tight, so even if things went bad, everybody inside would be safe. That was exactly the way Mick liked it.

  He continued to mix drinks and draw pints, being sure to send a tray of the band’s preferred beers over to their table with one of his waitresses. It was best to keep their vocal chords lubricated. They were earning every penny of their fee with this gig. The last hurricane party he’d hosted had lasted ’til dawn, and the musicians had played long after the power had gone out, keeping the fear and worry at bay with their instruments and voices.

  Mick’s attention shifted to a group of frat boys on the far side, and his sense of dread ratcheted up a couple of notches. They weren’t being rowdy, but they looked annoyed. One ham-handed guy reached out and snagged a waitress as she walked by. Charlotte covered her irritation, listened to the complaint: where was the service? She calmly took out her pad and scribbled down their orders. Not until she was on her way back to the bar did she absently rub her wrist. Mick’s eyes narrowed.

  Charlotte set her tray down on the bar. “One Jack and Coke, two Bud Selects, a G and T, one Bond-style martini, and a bloody Mary for Table Six.”

  Mick listened as she continued to rattle off orders, part of his brain filing and categorizing as he waited for her to finish. “You okay, chère?” His eyes flicked to her wrist.

  His waitress rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just a little overactive, underfed testosterone. It’s Liza’s station. Apparently they’ve been waiting a while.”

  He flicked his eyes around the other tables in Liza’s section, noting the waiting patrons, and frowned. “Liza isn’t in yet?”

  Tracy, one of the other waitresses, sidled up, orders for the kitchen in hand. “No, she’s late. Helluva night to do it, too. We’re jumpin.”

  “Either of you hear from her?” he asked. Both women shook their heads. Liza was never late. Could be she got delayed from the storm, but she’d have called.

  Mick loaded Charlotte’s tray. “Keep your eyes peeled. Divide her tables among yourselves. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  It took a while to process all the orders, but eventually he squeezed into his small office in the back. Blistering fiddle licks chased him as he shut the door, blocking out the bulk of the noise so he could call Liza’s cell phone. It went straight to voicemail. He left a message for her to call on the bar line and hung up.

  It didn’t necessarily mean anything was wrong. She might’ve let the thing die, or she hadn’t answered the last call. But he didn’t like it.

  As he stepped back into the bar, the band finished a rousing rendition of Hot Tamale Baby. The moment of silence before the audience burst into applause and cheers was interrupted by a sharp crack! up near the front.

  Mick’s eyes went to the windows first, thinking one of the storm shutters had come loose to whack against the brick. Then he saw her standing in the doorway, hair whipping around her heart shaped face as the wind and rain poured in at her back.

  Trouble.

  That’s all Mick could think as he stared at her, mouth going dry. If she’d lifted her hands to send walls of water crashing over his customers, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised. And he wasn’t sure he could move to stop her. For that moment he was absolutely at her mercy.

  Then another patron wrestled the outside door shut and she was just a woman.

  A wet, slightly bedraggled and incredibly sexy woman, Mick corrected. He called himself a fanciful fool as she combed the dripping hair back from her face with both hands and took another step inside.

  She was exactly the kind of trouble he liked between the sheets on long, hot summer nights when hurricanes weren’t threatening the city he loved. Though she was dressed casually in jeans and a leather jacket, she carried herself like she wore a suit, stiff and purposeful. He wanted to peel those wet layers off and make her forget whatever worries had pulled that lush pink mouth into a frown.

  It was then he noticed the temper practically steaming the water off her. Mick tore his eyes and his mind away. No time for play tonight. No time for whatever kinda trouble she brought with her. She wasn’t a local and that meant she wasn’t for him. He had a business to run and a waitress to find.

  ~*~

  Sophie hung back near the entryway, feeling almost as buffeted by the music as she had by the storm outside. She was off-balance and unprepared for the bar full of happy, dancing people. Were they crazy? Didn’t they know a hurricane was bearing down on them?

  Her eyes flicked up to the big screen TV on the wall, as the band declared they would be back after a short break. The meteorologist announced that Roy had picked up speed and was predicted to make landfall by six AM. . Okay, yeah, they knew, they just weren’t going anywhere. Obviously. Because the logical thing to do in a natural disaster is have a drunken party. With a band. Gods.

  She scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar dark head and not seeing it. Not that Liza was easily seen. She was just as vertically challenged as Sophie was, barely topping 5’2”.

  There were humans mixed in with the Mirus present. Quite a few, actually. Which meant that Le Loup Garou was not one of the establishments that cloaked its presence from humans. That made the situation an iota better for Liza. It meant she wouldn’t stand out as much. When Mom had called earlier in the day to say that baby sis was working in a Mirus bar, Sophie had imagined the worst and come racing to New Orleans to bail her out of trouble. Again. But clearly this wasn’t the kind of place where young, impressionable human women were on display like gyrating sides of beef. It was just a bar. And chances were Liza was just a waitress.

  Not that that was going to keep Sophie from ripping her sister a new one at the earliest opportunity.

  “We’re pretty packed, but you could probably squeeze in up at the bar.”

  Sophie turned her attention to the waitress, who’d paused, heavy tray balanced expertly on her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

  Before Sophie could ask about Liza, the woman nodded and sashayed onto the other side of the bar to deliver food. The spicy scent of jambalaya and gumbo lingered in her wake, reminding Sophie that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast in Atlanta, and that was hours ago. Maybe she could at least get a bite of something while she figured out how she was going to drag her sister out of here without making a scene.

  When she reached the bar, a skinny guy in a bright Hawaiian shirt flashed her a smile and immediately stood up, drink in hand. He gestured at the stool. “You look like you could use this more than me, sugar.”

  Sophie worked up a smile that she hoped didn’t resemble a snarl. “Thanks.”

  She braced herself to fend off any flirtation, but the guy only saluted her with his beer and hollered down the bar. “Hey Mick! This one needs a nip to warm her up.”

  Glancing down the bar, she saw a flash of tanned, muscled forearm passing a drink to someone before a shoulder leaned in and blocked her view. She slid onto the stool, grimacing as the wet denim of her jeans clung to her thighs. A change of clothes would be awesome but wasn’t in the cards. The rain was coming down so hard now, anything she could pull out of her car would get just as soaked. Besides,
she wasn’t planning on staying.

  The same brown arm thrust into her line of vision, a dishtowel clutched in his hand. Sophie blinked and followed the arm, past the faded blue chambray shirt, up to the very broad shoulders, and finally settled on his face. He wasn’t handsome. Not by any kind of movie-star standards. He was all sharp angles and flat planes that should have come together to look like some kind of backwoods hit man. But his eyes—golden as the whiskey on the shelf behind him—and the slight curve of a surprisingly sensual mouth softened everything enough to make him appear just this side of civilized.

  “It’s not much, but it might help a li’l bit.” His voice flowed over her like spiced honey, warm and sexy. He shook the towel in a take it gesture.

  Sophie realized she was staring and closed her mouth, reaching for the towel. “Thanks.” Embarrassed, she dropped her eyes, using the towel to squeeze water from her hair. She had often heard people speak of the animal magnetism of the Wylk, but this was the first time she’d experienced it herself.

  She sensed, rather than saw, the wolf-shifter move on down the bar, continuing to tend other customers. Oh brilliant. This is really the perfect time for your libido to wake up and decide to tango. You’re here for Liza.