Shadow Prophet (Midnight Chronicles Book 1)

by Andrea Pearson

  She raised her eyebrow at me, and I pushed aside a weird urge to smooth it down.

  Had she bought my lie? Or half lie? What I said was technically the truth, but it obviously wasn’t the way I’d come about the information.

  Her skeptical expression didn’t go away. I sighed, pushing aside my frustrations. “I needed to talk to you, okay? See if you’re ready to accept the job.”

  She shrugged, her shoulder visible through the crack. “I think so, but I still don’t know enough about you.”

  Are you kidding me? Why was she being so weird about this? She had no reason not to trust me—not based on what she knew about me. She hadn’t heard of the deaths of my other targets, and she wouldn’t. Not with the Croents helping out. And there was no way I’d fill her in on any of the other important stuff.

  “Weren’t you extending me a job offer? Isn’t that proof you don’t really need to know me well to have a business relationship with me?”

  She narrowed her eyes. Good. I’d annoyed her. I was surprised to find that she was annoying me too. I took a deep breath, reveling in the feel of a new emotion where she was concerned. I’d hold on to that annoyance as much as possible and for as long as I could. It seriously beat the discouragement and depression I normally felt when I thought of her.

  Lizzie rolled her eyes, shutting the door, and I heard the chain clicking as she slid it off the bracket. Finally.

  I resisted the urge to growl when she stepped onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her. Obviously, she didn’t want me in her house. Whatever. She motioned for me to take a seat on the wicker furniture, where she joined me.

  What was she trying to gain by doing this? I wasn’t about to give her what she wanted, especially not when it put both of us in danger. The less she knew about me, the better off she would be. What I’d been doing since we’d last seen each other was none of her business.

  “So,” she started, “tell me about your family.”

  I blinked, surprised at the question. My surprise quickly disappeared as my heart pounded against my rib cage and tears burned the back of my eyes. Of course she would start with the one topic that was the most painful to talk about. I didn’t blame her—it was usually an easy conversation for most people. But the subject of family was even more unbearable than my infatuation with her. I swallowed a couple of times, getting myself under control.

  “There isn’t much to say.”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder and glared at me. “Well, what is there to say?”

  This time, I felt bad for irritating her. There was no way she’d be able to navigate the land mine that was my life without pushing buttons and hurting or frustrating me.

  I shifted my position in the rocker I’d chosen. “They’re good people.”

  “Where have you spent most of your life?”

  She changed the subject faster than I thought she would. Thank goodness.

  Before or after I’d been kidnapped as a teenager? “Here and there.”

  “Okay, anywhere in particular? How about when you were little?”

  “Oklahoma. Arkansas. And then Kansas, when I was in high school. And here and there since.”

  She frowned. “You’re purposefully avoiding my questions. What are you hiding from me?”

  I froze. There was no way she knew about my contract to kill her. I shook myself inwardly. Obviously she didn’t. But why did she care so much about my past? How was it going to change us needing to work together?

  “Lizzie . . .”

  Saying her name softened my heart, made it impossible to be frustrated. It melted all of my irritation away, and I saw hers leaving too. I resisted the urge to pick up her hand, to cradle it in my own. My thoughts and emotions derailed, and for several moments, I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

  Man. If just the thought of touching her left me in a puddle, I couldn’t imagine what actually touching her would do to me.

  “I just . . . I’m not ready to talk about certain things.”

  She didn’t respond for a moment. “Fair enough.”

  I could see in her expression that we’d come to a sort of compromise. Judging by the depth of pain I sensed from her, she understood the need to hold things close. Either that, or me saying her name had done funny things to her stomach like it had mine.

  We continued making small talk, but somehow managed to avoid the more sensitive subjects. We discussed the weather, Lizzie’s hair, and how she liked living in Lehi.

  I could tell when she stopped paying attention to our conversation. Moments later, she got to her feet, stepping off her porch and looking around.

  I sensed it too. Something was coming, a magical pressure I’d felt when fighting the hound in Salt Lake.

  Screams erupted from the neighbor’s house to the north, and she and I glanced at each other for a split second before she jumped the little fence that separated her yard from theirs. I followed quickly after.

  She flung their front door open, and the two of us rushed inside. Another scream came from farther back in the house, and a great dog bounded into the front room, followed by an elderly woman who I assumed was Lizzie’s neighbor. She had a gun pointed at the hound, her hand shaky.

  The beast lunged for Lizzie before I could do anything.

  11

  Lizzie scrambled back, bumping into me. I jumped out from behind her and sprang at the dog, catching it midair just before it embedded its teeth in her throat. I grabbed the demon by all four legs and slammed it on its side, pinning it with one knee. Then, with a massive twist, I broke the beast’s neck.

  The dog stopped moving, but I knew this battle wasn’t over yet. I snatched the gun from the woman and shot the demon four times.

  Both women screamed.

  “What are you doing?” Lizzie shrieked. “He’s dead!”

  Was she crazy? Didn’t she know these things were immortal?

  I popped out the magazine, checking that there were still bullets in it, then rehoused it and pocketed the gun. “Do you have any rope?” I asked the elderly woman.

  She nodded, but didn’t stop staring at the dog. “In—in the shed off the kitchen.”

  Jumping to my feet, hoping the dog wouldn’t heal while I was gone, I rushed through the kitchen, out the back door, and into a little shed. It took me a moment to find the rope. It was on top of an old dresser near the back. I looped it over my forearm and carried it inside before tying up the dog’s mouth and feet. And then I picked up the demon and slung it over my shoulder, striding out of the house.

  Broken neck, bullet wounds . . . they weren’t enough. I needed something that would completely pulverize the creature.

  I headed in the direction of the train tracks.

  Lizzie practically stumbled over her feet as she chased after me. Alexander had way overestimated this woman and her ability to keep herself alive. If freezing and panicking were her style, I’d have my hands even more full than I’d expected.

  “Stop!” she said.

  Why? Did she want to sit down and have a calm, polite conversation? I had a job to do. Until she got the necklace that protected her and helped her permanently kill these hounds, someone needed to keep them away.

  I turned toward the railroad tracks at the next intersection, still walking quickly. The hound twitched, and I increased my speed, my breath coming rapidly. It was healing faster than I’d expected.

  Lizzie finally caught up to me and put her hand on my arm, jerking me back toward her. “Are you sure this is necessary?”

  I was so surprised, I could only stare at her. Why would she even ask that question? Didn’t she realize that by stopping me, she was putting not just herself, but her entire neighborhood in danger?

  Besides, the more these dogs hung around, the more people would start questioning and wondering. And that would lead to the beasts being even more attracted to them.

  She must’ve seen something in my eyes because she took a step back. My heart caught in my thr
oat and I almost dropped the dog, wanting to take her in my arms, to comfort her, to erase the fear from her eyes.

  Monster.

  She knew what I was.

  The dog twitched again, and realizing I had no time to waste, I turned and rushed to the train tracks. Please have a train come soon. I threw the dog on the ties and dug in the rocks and dirt under them, tying the creature down multiple times.

  Finished, I glanced at Lizzie, not surprised to see she hadn’t left.

  She didn’t need to be scarred by seeing a dog—even an evil demon one—get hit by a train. She was so fragile still. So innocent, despite the years of experience she’d gained in her career.

  “Go home, Lizzie.”

  Ouch. I grimaced. That was harsh—I didn’t need to see it in her eyes to know I’d hurt her yet again.

  I bit my tongue until I tasted blood, unsure how to right things. I’d always been abrupt and blunt, only realizing later I could have softened what I’d said.

  My heart aching, knowing I’d probably never get the chance for her to see the real me, I stepped off the train tracks, pulled out the elderly woman’s gun, and cocked it. The moment that dog tried to move, I would shoot it again.

  I considered shooting the dog now, but no sense freaking out the neighbors unless I absolutely had to. A train must be coming soon—they seemed to pass my apartment every twenty minutes.

  A large tree grew ten feet away from the tracks, and I leaned up against it, making sure the gun was between my leg and the trunk and not in immediate view.

  I should apologize to Lizzie, but I wasn’t sure how.

  “Why . . .?” She was obviously struggling for words.

  “Only a hound can kill a hound, Lizzie. It’s not dead.”

  She didn’t respond for a moment. “What’s going on, Abel?”

  The dog twitched again, and I scowled, shaking my head, dismayed. How had it healed that quickly? “Unbelievable.”

  “Jerk,” Lizzie muttered, glaring at me.

  Obviously, she’d thought I was responding to her. That wasn’t what I’d intended. If I tried to explain that, would I just make everything worse? She completely scrambled the human-relations part of my brain.

  The dog twitched yet again, much more visibly this time, and Lizzie gasped. She hadn’t noticed it moving earlier.

  The bullet holes were gone by now, and I fingered the trigger on the gun, getting ready to shoot again.

  Probably recognizing that I wasn’t going to talk, Lizzie spun on her heel and headed home.

  My shoulders slumped down, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Being around her was intoxicating and aggravating and difficult. It clouded my mind. I shook my head, wondering how on earth I was supposed to protect her. I’d never been around someone who so completely and utterly stripped me of coherent thought, rendering me useless for normal conversation.

  What was I going to do?

  And not just about interacting with her . . . but also about finishing my jobs. Both of them. They were diametrically opposed. I should never have taken Alexander’s contract. But I couldn’t imagine someone else protecting Lizzie . . . my Lizzie. It definitely put me in a difficult position.

  There had to be other avenues I could follow where my contract with the Shadow Prophet was concerned. But what were they?

  I still yearned to learn more about her—to find out what made her tick, what got her up every morning, where the shameless flirt had gone and who she’d been replaced with.

  Lizzie was so much more mature now. That still surprised me. All of those traits I’d found so annoying were gone. But getting closer to her would almost certainly cause me to fall for her even more.

  And then what? How would I function more in love with her than I already was? I needed to fall out of love with her. But how? How could I undo years of built-up emotion and infatuation?

  A train honked, waking the beast, and he started struggling to get out of the ropes. Moments later, the train barreled down the tracks. I watched the dog long enough to make sure it didn’t escape, then turned my gaze at the last second.

  I’d seen enough death. I didn’t need to see more.

  While waiting for the big machine to pass, I pocketed the gun, grateful the elderly woman had owned one. Once the tracks were clear, I stepped closer. Bits of the demon were everywhere.

  It would take at least two days to heal.

  I hoped.

  My heart twisted. Even though I knew the demon would have destroyed us, I still felt sorrow at killing yet again.

  Monster.

  The sooner I embraced that part of myself, the faster I could move on from it.

  Still, I hated what I’d become. Hated murdering.

  No, no. I shook my head. I hadn’t killed that hound. These monsters were immortal. His blood wasn’t truly on my hands.

  Wind rushed into my lungs at this revelation, making me feel dizzy. I headed toward Lizzie’s house, more lighthearted than I’d been in a long while. I even smiled. I couldn’t help it. It was nice not to have guilt stabbing me.

  I’d almost reached Lizzie’s place when I realized I still had the gun and needed to return it to her neighbor. I walked up to the elderly woman’s porch and knocked, gun in my hand, wondering if I should warn her in some way about potential visits from demons.

  She opened the door, a big smile on her face, and I froze when one of my tattoos twinged.

  Holy smokes, Lizzie’s neighbor wasn’t human.

  12

  How had I missed it before? My tattoo began burning, alerting me to who and what she was.

  Vampire.

  Croent, more specifically.

  “Thank you so much for helping with the dog,” she said, taking the gun from me.

  Her words barely registered. Were they going to follow me everywhere? Had she been attracted to Lizzie, or was she here innocently? Did I need to kill her too in order to protect Lizzie?

  She waited for me to respond, the smile still on her face. I debated letting her continue the old-lady charade, but decided not to beat around the bush.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Fear registered in her eyes, and she stepped away from me.

  Was this the old-lady charade still, or true fear? I couldn’t tell. “I’m not going to hurt you. Even knowing what you are. Again I ask, what are you doing here?”

  The elderly woman hesitated, her brown eyes studying me, then she shrugged. “Sorry. I get so used to playing a human that I forget I’m really not one sometimes.” She opened the door wider, motioning for me to enter. “You might as well come in. It seems we’ve a lot to talk about.”

  I followed her, knowing I was in danger, but trusting my instincts. They told me things would be fine. Besides, I really wanted to hear what this . . . woman had to say.

  She motioned for me to take a seat in the living room, then disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

  “I’m a vampire,” she said after she’d taken a seat on the couch opposite me. “As you perhaps already suspected.”

  I nodded, picking up a cookie and taking a bite. It was very good. “Croent.”

  “Yes.” She gave me a look, and I could tell she wondered how I’d known. “My husband and I both are.”

  I waved for her to go on. “So? My earlier question?”

  She sighed. “I suppose you want to know if it was coincidence that we moved next to the person the prophecies are all about.”

  “Naturally.”

  “We came mainly because we were curious. No bad intentions on our part. But now that we’ve gotten to know Lizzie, we want to protect her.” She leveled a glare at me. “As much as we can.”

  “We’re on the same side,” I said. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  For now. And I hoped it would remain that way.

  “Please don’t tell her anything.”

  “I won’t. As long as I don’t have to.” I watched h
er for a moment. “I thought vampires were rare on earth—even unheard of.”

  “We are. Definitely. As far as I know, my husband and I are the only ones here.”

  She didn’t know about the Croents employed by the Shadow Prophet. Good. I frowned. “How can you be sure?”

  “I have connections. If one shows up, we’ll know about it.”

  “Okay. Good to know.” I hated dealing with vampires as much as I had already. They disgusted me. This Croent wasn’t a threat to Lizzie—I knew she’d been telling the truth about how much she cared for her—but she still had to drink blood to look like a human. I didn’t want to know what all that entailed.

  She stayed where she was, watching me as if she wanted to continue talking, but wasn’t sure what to talk about. I was used to that sort of reaction from people. I didn’t generally encourage conversation. It seemed pointless when I moved around so frequently—I couldn’t afford to make friends, and I’d gotten out of the habit of being friendly.

  In other words, it was time to go. I got to my feet and thanked her for the cookies before heading to Lizzie’s house.

  Lizzie would be expecting me, so I didn’t knock on the door before entering. Maybe I should have. Social conventions . . . I’m really not very good at those, either.

  She was in the kitchen, sitting at her little table with a mug of something steamy. I leaned against the doorjamb, ignoring the urge to join her at the table where I’d just need to resist other urges.

  “I’m sorry about what happened. I really am.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me.

  I sighed. “Until you get the amulet, you aren’t safe. I just couldn’t risk anything happening to you.”

  “The dog isn’t dead, is it? Even after getting hit by a train and everything else you did to it?”

  I shook my head, feeling as exhaustion and discouragement hit me at nearly the same speed as that train had hit the demon. Weary to the bone, realizing just how long it had been since I’d allowed myself to rest. And not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too.

  Emotionally . . . yeah, rest wouldn’t come in that way for a long time. But mentally? There was only so far I could push myself.