Shadow Form (Dark Impulse Book 2)

by Edmund Hughes

  Shadow Form

  Edmund Hughes

  This digital book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this title with another person, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. All other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Edmund Hughes

  Kindle Edition

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I want to acknowledge all the people who have supported my work, either through advice, reviews, editing, or proofreading. And of course, my fantastic cover artist, Cherry-gig,

  Creatively speaking, I want to acknowledge Dexter and Death Note for creating such fascinating and compelling anti-heroes.

  Contents

  Shadow Form

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 1

  “Sir? Can I help you with something?”

  The librarian was a mousy-looking woman with curly hair and thick spectacles. It was hard for Jack to guess her age, but she seemed a little younger than he was. He slid the volume he’d opened back into place on the shelf and smiled at her.

  “Yeah,” said Jack. “I’m looking for a book.”

  “Then you’ve come to the right place,” said the librarian. “Title and author?”

  “The Occult Rumors of Thomas Aquinas,” said Jack. “By Josiah Blackwood.”

  The librarian stood up a little straighter, clearly recognizing the title. She flashed a broad smile, as though the two of them were suddenly old friends based solely on the virtue of sharing an interest in the same book.

  “It’s a fascinating read,” she said. “The copy we have is one of the oldest books in the library. For some reason, it’s rarely in print, despite the steady demand we get for it. I keep it in the research room in back.”

  The librarian strode past him, and Jack fell into step behind her. It was late afternoon and the library’s windows were host to deep, orange sunbeams, each one showcasing a slow-motion ballet of dust motes through the air. The library smelled of old books and older memories, but both of those scents were secondary compared to what drew most of Jack’s attention.

  “Thomas Aquinas is such an interesting historical figure,” said the librarian. “Especially some of the myths surrounding him, which this book really gets into.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard,” said Jack.

  “I’d known about the claims of him being able to levitate,” said the librarian. “But according to The Occult Rumors, he could also do things like disappear into the shadows of a dark room and move objects at a distance. It’s a bit nutty to think about how people actually believed in such things.”

  “Was there anything in the book about him being cursed?” asked Jack. “Of him needing to live under specific conditions? Or compulsions?”

  “A curse…” The librarian frowned and shook her head. “I’m not sure. Maybe? It’s been a while since I read it.”

  She brushed a hand through her brown curls, briefly exposing the nape of her neck. Jack picked that moment to inhale and was instantly greeted by the fullness of her scent. Faintly sweet, with a hint of brown sugar, or perhaps caramel.

  “The research room isn’t technically open to the public, but you can come in just this one time,” said the librarian. “It’s in the back of the library, and it was built to be a quiet place where serious scholars can get whatever they need done in private.”

  Jack nodded, taking a slow breath. He could feel a dull pain pressing against his temples. The beginning of a bloodthirst-induced headache. One of the most annoying constants of being a vampire. The librarian had already stepped into the small, secluded research chamber, and she had her back turned to him.

  “The book should be here somewhere,” said the librarian, shaking her head. “It might take a few minutes to find, but that’s okay. It’s almost closing time anyway, and you’re the only one here.”

  He entered the research chamber and shut the door behind him. His heart was pounding in his chest. Regardless of which way he turned his gaze, he felt his attention slowly being drawn back to the librarian. She was bent over the corner of the table in the center of the room, picking up scattered books and examining their titles. Totally oblivious.

  “Does the book say anything about how Thomas Aquinas got away with it?” asked Jack. “In his time period, having magical abilities seems like it would have been a death sentence. They would have assumed he was some kind of evil sorcerer. Or worse.”

  “Uh…” The librarian glanced up, frowning at him. “I don’t remember. Like I said, it’s been a while since I found it.”

  Jack nodded. He was moving toward her slowly. His heart was racing in his chest, and both anticipation and excitement permeated through his body, all the way to the tips of his toes and fingers.

  “Oh!” said the librarian. “Here it is!”

  She smiled and held up an old tome with a black leather-bound cover. Its pages were yellow, and the spine had obviously been repaired several times. Jack accepted it from her as she passed it to him, though it was hard to pull his attention back to where it needed to be.

  “…Thank you,” said Jack.

  “Since you’re a local, you don’t need a library card or anything,” said the librarian. “But I will charge you the full cost for the book if it isn’t back within thirty days. Though I get the feeling it wouldn’t be too hard for you to pay, given your inheritance.”

  Jack forced himself to exhale and calm down.

  “No,” he said. “That wouldn’t be too hard for me. Thanks for the help.”

  He walked out of the research room, across the library’s main floor, and through the front door, resisting the urge to glance back. The library was one of Lestaron Island’s older buildings and had been constructed on the high side of town, overlooking the docks and the open ocean. Jack spent a couple of seconds watching the sunset and the beautiful smear of colors it left across the water. He took a slow breath, trying to calm himself down.

  He’d only been back on Lestaron Island for two weeks, but given all that had happened in that time frame, it felt like he’d been there for years. It was the island he’d grown up on and then been uprooted from after his parents had died. Now, it was one of the few places in the world where he could live a nearly normal life without giving in to what he was. Without becoming unhinged as a vampire, a true predator of the night.

  And it was all thanks to Katie. Jack had already sent her o
ne text earlier in the day, but his bloodthirst was wearing on him to the point where he could justify sending another. Katie was Jack’s grandfather’s apprentice and his closest childhood friend. After the death of Jack’s grandfather and his return to the island, she’d been the only one capable of helping him.

  JACK: Are you in town? I could really use a drink.

  Despite having a fiancé and a normal life, Katie had been willing to take on the risks of allowing Jack to drink her blood in a safe environment. She was an alchemist and capable of brewing a potion to counteract the enthralling effects of Jack’s bite.

  Of course, their strategy wasn’t perfect. During their last fight with Jack’s broodmother, they’d slipped up. They’d gone too far, and the effects of Jack’s bite, along with the inherent eroticism involved in vampiric feeding, had led to the natural, intimate conclusion.

  But it had been more than just the sex. He and Katie had finally talked about what they’d were to each other, which was what he’d wanted most upon his first return to the island. She’d told him that she loved him, and then withdrawn just as quickly. Jack wasn’t sure he could blame her for it, given how confusing it must have been separating the real emotions from the magically induced ones.

  Over the past few days, she’d been increasingly distant, refusing to ever let her conversations with him veer out of small talk or their supernatural concerns. She’d been anxious about him feeding off her, too. Not only did she still insist on him being handcuffed, but she’d even started taking a small dose of sedative along with her anti-enthrallment potion.

  Katie claimed it was to keep herself relaxed, but they both knew the truth. She was scared of what could happen, even if they took all the proper precautions. Especially given how emotionally charged the situation had grown to be between them. Katie was scared of losing control, of losing her grasp on who she was. Jack understood that impulse all too well.

  KATIE: I’m going out to dinner with Bruce. Maybe later tonight. Probably tomorrow morning.

  Jack scowled and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He felt ridiculous for being annoyed, given that he was lucky that Katie was still willing to let him feed off her in the first place. It was taking a toll on her relationship, and even though Jack didn’t have much sympathy for Katie’s fiancé, he knew that it was a significantly more difficult line for her to walk.

  Part of him wanted to push the point, to emphasize to Katie that his feelings were genuine and that she should be with him instead. A slightly darker part of him knew that if he really wanted her, he could just take her. Do what Mira had been asking, and what might end up happening anyway. He shook the thought away, feeling disgusted with himself.

  He started off down the street, into town. Ryoko had dropped him off earlier, and though he knew that he could call her for a ride if he needed to, he wasn’t ready to head back to the mansion just yet.

  Jack felt an insidious whisper in the back of his mind urging him to throw caution to the wind and find someone to feed from at random. Maybe even the librarian, who’d still be amidst the quiet bookshelves, wrapping up her tasks for the day. Feeding off Katie sated his bloodthirst, but it felt a little like having a diet restricted to a single food. Pizza, day in and day out. It was tolerable, but the allure of trying a hamburger or a steak would always be there.

  He started walking faster, as though he could outpace his own illicit urges if he moved fast enough. If only it were that simple.

  CHAPTER 2

  Stickly’s Tavern was just down the street from the library. Lesser Town, true to its name, was a small, remote population center, with very little in the way of choice when it came to the essentials. Stickly’s Tavern was the only bar that would be open so early in the evening, given that it mostly catered to sailors and boatmen coming in from the docks.

  An old buoy adorned the weathered wooden sign above the stairs that led down into the drinking hole. Jack brushed his feet off on the welcome mat as he made his way inside. It was dimly lit, with no windows large enough to let in more than a trickle of sunlight from outside, which was another reason why he liked it.

  The bartender was an androgynous-looking woman by the name of Mickie. She had short dirty blonde hair, a wiry build, and half of a scowl perpetually stuck on her face. She didn’t say much and merely nodded to Jack as he took a seat at the bar.

  “I’ll have a shot of whiskey,” said Jack. “And a beer to chase it down with.”

  Mickie nodded to him. She’d already taken the whiskey out upon seeing him and reached for a mug to fill up from the tap. Jack wasn’t sure that he liked the fact that he’d come into the tavern enough over the past week for her to have picked up on his drinking habits.

  And it had become a habit for him, more out of necessity than enjoyment. Jack had learned early on after being turned into a vampire that one of the few surefire ways to tamp down on his blood cravings was to get himself fairly drunk. It needed to be more than a mild buzz, too. Usually he had to push it until he reached the point where the effects of his inebriation were severe enough to overwhelm the effects of his bloodthirst.

  He downed the shot immediately and then started sipping the beer. He still had the book on Thomas Aquinas with him, and he flipped it open on the bar, skimming through the first few introductory pages.

  Katie had explained to him shortly after he’d first been bitten and discovered his abilities that he was an Aquinian vampire, a blood mage descended from the line of Thomas Aquinas. If Jack connected a line through Mira, his broodmother, continuing on to whoever turned her and so forth, it would eventually lead back to the renowned philosopher.

  Much of the first chapter was irrelevant to what Jack cared about, mostly consisting of basic factual details about Aquinas’s life and death. He found more of interest in the second chapter, scanning over a description of Aquinas being able to manipulate objects with “The Lord’s Hand.”

  The way it was described made it sound like Spectral Hand, one of the basic blood magic spells that Jack had discovered early on in his career as a vampire. The book’s flattering description of Thomas Aquinas’s “godly blessing” made it sound a lot less demonic than the dark, ethereal tendrils that Jack had learned to manifest.

  He continued on, pausing to read and reread a section about Aquinas’s ability to appear and disappear at will.

  “Aquinas could fade into the shadow of the Lord, for he was cloaked in the light of divinity itself,” whispered Jack, reading the words aloud. “He was given the gift of form and lack thereof.”

  The description reminded Jack of what he’d seen Mira do in several of their encounters, fading into darkness and shadow and seeming to materialize in another place. Katie had called it “Shadow Form” when he’d asked her about it, but she hadn’t known much more about the spell than its name.

  He’d sought out the library book in hopes of finding information about how Thomas Aquinas had coped with the bloodthirst, and maybe even a solution to it. But the idea of learning new blood magic spells intrigued him more than he wanted to admit. Jack tapped his fingers against the wrinkled, yellow page, considering the possibilities.

  He could feel his own store of blood essence in his body, almost like secondary temperature. It had been more than a day since he last fed, and he was running low. How much blood would it take for him to attempt a spell like Shadow Form? Was it worth exploring the possibility if it meant him needing to feed more frequently?

  “Bloody hell, man! Who brings a book to the bar, of all places?”

  The stool next to Jack screeched as Palmer pulled it back and climbed into it. Jack closed the tome and sighed.

  “Someone looking to get some reading done in peace,” said Jack.

  “That someone ain’t gonna be you tonight,” said Palmer. “A few ships came into dock today. Taking cover from the storm that’s on the way. This place will be bristling with activity before you know it.”

  Jack shrugged. Mickie set a mug down in front of Palme
r, who raised it and grinned at Jack as he took a sip. Palmer wore a stained flannel shirt that was baggy on his rail-thin frame. He was bald, with eyes that seemed slightly subdued, though his personality was anything but.

  Palmer was one of Stickly’s Tavern’s regulars and had become something of a drinking buddy to Jack over the past week. He was one of the few people other than Katie on Lestaron Island that was familiar with the supernatural, and he ran a small occult shop out of the tiny shack he lived in, selling weak potions and charms to anyone willing to take a gamble on them.

  “How was business today, Palmer?” asked Jack. “Sell any love potions?”

  “Laugh it up good, why don’t ya?” Palmer took a deep sip of his beer. “As a matter of fact, business was booming today. The blokes off one of the bigger ships in the harbor were an unscrupulous lot. A few of them bought some of my male potency potions. Not sure if they’re looking to have fun with some of the gals in town or with each other, mind you.”

  “Does it matter?” asked Jack.

  Palmer shrugged. “I suppose not. Though you can’t blame a fella for being curious. The same goes for you and your book. What’s so interesting that it has you well engrossed in the middle of the afternoon in a tavern?”

  Jack shrugged. Despite having come to appreciate Palmer as an acquaintance, if not a friend, he was still a little wary of him. Katie had told Jack that Peter had been on bad terms with Palmer, and he had enough respect for his grandfather to assume that there was probably a good reason for that.

  “It’s a history book,” said Jack. “I doubt you’d be interested in it.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” said Palmer. “Especially when I’m this close to the tap. Mickie? Refill, if you please?”

  The next few hours were a slow progression of conversation, beer, and whiskey shots. Jack’s tolerance for alcohol had seemingly increased in lockstep with the severity of his bloodthirst. Not only were his urges to feed becoming stronger, as of late, but the amount he had to drink to tamp down on them had become a little unpleasant.