Calico (The Covenant of Shadows Book 2)

by Kade Cook

  His mouth curls upward and his adoration for her never-ending curiosity reaches the soft lines gathering at the edges of his sea-green gaze. “It’s kind of like watching a sunrise.”

  Gabrian furrows her brow at his answer, confused. He laughs at her dismay and pulls her in a little closer. Feeling the heat of his body against hers in the coolness of the damp morning, she does not resist, savoring the lent warmth as it spreads across her flesh.

  “The way I see it is if the sun is brave enough to rise every single morning, fighting its way through the seemingly impenetrable walls of night’s darkness, then there is always hope. Each day we are given here on Earth, in this Realm, is a fragile gift that expires quickly.” Shane raises his arm and with the back side of his calloused hand, lets his fingers gently graze the soft flesh of Gabrian’s cheek. “I have learned to be grateful for every measure of beauty we find. Even during life’s moments of ugliness there is still beauty hidden within...only we can’t see it until we are ready to understand. There is always something good to fight for. And so, because of this, I try to carry that measure of gratitude with me as a reminder to keep breathing, keep believing, and keep fighting for those precious moments.”

  Hearing his voice of quiet reason resonate through her mind, Gabrian meets his soft stare. Lifting her hand, she cups the edge of his jaw and slowly traces his bottom lip with her thumb, feeling the plumpness in its curve. Within his words, she realizes something—Shane has become like the sunrise to her with his unrelenting ability to lift her up even when there seems to be nothing left but darkness.

  “The sun is almost at the horizon, are you ready?” he whispers, breaking the silence.

  Gabrian holds his gaze for a moment more then releases him, her hand slipping back under the throw. Turning away, she focuses her eyes to the edge of the skyline dawning before her and grips her cup a little tighter. “Almost, the Covenant of Shadows can wait until I finish my coffee.”

  Shane lets out a breathy huff. “Yes, I suppose they can.”

  Raising her cup, she rests the edge of the cool ceramic mug against her lips and pushes back at the heavy sinking feeling that has begun twisting in the pit of her core just from saying the name. She lets the air in her lungs finally escape in a loud sigh and swallows down the last of the lukewarm elixir.

  Holding her head just a little higher, she whispers to the Shadow Walker, “Okay, now I am ready.”

  “Okay.” Shane nods, waiting for her to set her cup down onto the railing of the deck. He takes her in his arms and rests his chin atop her head, kissing her hair as he inhales its cinnamon scent. Relinquishing the embrace, he cups her elbow for a moment then slides his hand along the side of her arm to her wrist and clasps his fingers around it within a firm grip. With his free hand, he reaches toward the darkness encasing them and finds the familiar tingle of the shadow’s edge, wrapping them within its magic and into the Veil.

  Gabrian closes her eyes as the world around her goes dark.

  3

  BITTEN TONGUES

  EXITING THE VEIL AND entering into the magical binds of the Covenant of Shadows irritates Gabrian’s fragile mood right away. Though she has been here a couple of times, she had forgotten the feeling of being constrained against her will. Inwardly, it pulls at her in a way that makes her want to tear at the invisible restraints so tightly wound around her that even breathing feels laboured.

  The last time she walked through the stone corridors, her adoptive mother and father had accompanied her. But today, the raw sadness of their absence eats away at her heart and threatens to expose a thread of weakness. She uses her unspoken hatred for the Covenant’s rules to bury her emotions deep within, smothering them for the moment. Now is not the time to be weepy.

  Not now. Not today.

  Today, she needs to seal any cracks in her defences. Every eye will be on her and from her past experiences, any liberties to tear through her will be taken, especially since her reason for being here is the fact that she allied herself with the very monster they thought had been destroyed.

  Shane eases some of the hold he has on Gabrian’s arm once they are through the shadows but does not fully let go. As they march closer to the end of the passage and nearer to the opening of the great hall, Gabrian runs her fingers along the grooves in the walls—protection spells etched within the narrow corridors. The coolness of the stone against the warmth in her fingertips makes her feel less irritated and she wishes just once to enter these walls without malice echoing in every corner of her mind. The edifice is enchanting and encrypted with thousands of years of knowledge of her new world. It would truly be amazing to study if it didn’t hold so many memories—if it held a different meaning for her.

  But it doesn’t. Not yet.

  Reaching the opening of the catacombs, the light from the outside world enters through the enchanted stone wall on the other side of the room and cascades across the smooth marbled floor, brightening the gloominess of the caverned city. Gabrian tilts her head back, taking in the enormity of her surroundings, and it reminds her how small she truly is. Its heavenly illusion twinkles with star-like jewels but even that holds little beauty for her today.

  Shane tugs on her arm and she shifts her eyes to meet his glance. “We are late.”

  Gabrian lets out a breath weighted with stress and furrows her brow. “Ugh, fine.”

  They push forward and rush through the large marble room, weaving in between the massive support pillars rising endlessly upward. The reflective ambience of cauldrons filled with coloured flames line the walls of the hall but her eyes catch at the only spot without a flame. It is the same cauldron that had been empty on her last visit. Her fingers spark unexpectedly at the sight of it and she slows her pace for just a step to study them, wiggling them in front of her face, mind racing. The cauldron had ignited before, briefly, when she was here, scaring the life out of her, and now it causes her fingers to burn by just looking at it. “What on earth?”

  “Gabrian, come on,” Shane says, glancing back at her.

  She drops her hand, dismissing her inquiry of the sparks, and lunges forward to catch up. Standing still at the edge of the room before the High Table surrounded by the Elders, Gabrian’s body heavies with the weight of their stares as they turn to acknowledge her presence. Gabrian’s heart thumps loudly in her ears, drowning out any audible verbiage coming from them. Shane brushes his hand down her back, resting it at her side then cups her tiny fingers in his just briefly before releasing and tucks his hands behind his back. He takes a step in reverse and pulls his shoulders back into the respective stance of a Guardian.

  Though his hand is now preoccupied with his duty, his slight touch leaves Gabrian with a reminder that she is no longer alone, not anymore.

  Vaeda and Orroryn stand at once to greet her.

  “Gabrian Shadwell, we as the Elders of the Covenant of Shadows, would like to thank you for your presence here today,” Vaeda hums the welcome melodically as she clasps her delicate hands together expelling a sweet yet sympathetic smile in Gabrian’s direction. Unlocking her hands, she stretches an arm toward the cold, stone chair Gabrian has become all too familiar with, and invites her to take her place. “Please, won’t you come and sit down?”

  Gabrian swallows down the bitterness building in her throat and nods at her host’s warm welcome before searching her audience. Seeing the sincere smile on Orroryn’s face, her heart lightens and she treks around the table to her designated seat, forcing a mirrored smile.

  “Hey, kiddo, how are you holding up?”

  Her step slips at the sound of her old friend’s words in her mind but she recovers and continues on her route. “Super, can’t you tell?”

  “You are going to be okay,” Ethan whispers into her thoughts. “Just keep your cool, answer their questions, but bite your tongue if you have to. There is no need of turning this into a full-blown witch hunt if we can help it.”

  “I know, I know...” she answers, stealing a glimpse of
him from across the table. Gabrian stumbles again just before she reaches her seat but catches herself before she falls. “Stupid feet,” she growls.

  Ethan smiles under his lifted hand but his humour disappears as soon as she is seated and he meets her gaze, sensing the fear in her energy. “It’s going to be all right...”

  Gabrian closes her eyes just for a moment, searching for any signs of inner strength. The whispers of unkind thoughts float around the table, drowning out Ethan’s humanity. The words are built from fear, which she understands, but with it comes the vicious murmurs of pure disdain for what she is, never mind what she has done.

  A Borrower—a Borrower that crossed a line.

  “Gabrian, do you hear me?” Ethan’s concerned words scrape against her mind like sandpaper across her skin.

  “Yes... I hear you,” she snaps at him, feeling the edges of her nerves fray. Her eyes rise to meet his, knowing immediately she is in the wrong. “Sorry, Ethan...I hear you, thank you.”

  Ethan shoots her a wink of support then presses his knuckles just beneath his chin to exaggerate the effort of pushing it up.

  She gets it. He has faith that she can do this, so it is her turn to have faith in herself. And with this thought, her chin rises as well as her defences for battle.

  4

  IMAGINARY FRIENDS

  VAEDA RISES TO ADDRESS the table. She parts her delicate lips to speak but before her words can exit, the silence is broken by the intrusion of another’s voice.

  “So, are we to understand that you actually know your so-called captor?”

  Taken a bit back by the sudden yet expected immediate onslaught, Gabrian replies, “Yes.”

  “Sorry. Can you speak up so we can all hear you?” Caspyous hisses but does not bother to make eye contact as if the very act would lesson his hierarchy over her.

  Gritting her teeth and feeling the sting of venom in his words, Gabrian alters her answer. “I said yes...I...did,” she spits out every single word with disdain as it comes flooding back why she dreads these meetings.

  “And how is it that you came to know this...thing?” he hisses again at her, now inspecting the ends of his fingers like they hold more interest than her reply.

  Clenching her fists, she pushes all her dislike for this man into her hands and concentrates on not wanting to choke him. Clearing the curse words from her throat, she answers, “He was my imaginary friend when I was a child. He used to come visit me at—”

  “Are those not signs of when a child is feeling lonely or being mistreated?” Caspyous interrupts, lifting a brow.

  “It is not unusual to see cases of children who create imaginary friends—it is based upon the individuality of the child. It rarely holds much relevance to—”

  “Were you lonely as a child, Miss Shadwell?” He sneers at her.

  “No, I—”

  “Did the Shadwells mistreat you?”

  “NO!” Gabrian growls back at him, fingers clenched tightly and burning at the tips to the point of discomfort.

  “Tell us then, why a perfectly happy young girl would have the need to ally herself with an invisible friend—a monster, in fact.”

  “I don’t know,” Gabrian utters, unable to defend herself, and feeling her body shiver under the verbal attack.

  Vaeda steps into the intentional interrogation. “Please, Caspyous. That is just about enough. We are not here to tear Gabrian’s childhood apart, we are here to find out how all of this started and understand why he chose her to communicate with as it may play a significant role in learning how he got out.”

  Cimmerian glances up from his folded fists at the mention of his adversary’s escape from Erebus but does not add to the conversation. Keeping himself out of the line of fire is much more important than accosting the youngling about her part in the fiasco. He knows the part she played as well as his own.

  Relief that someone had the decency to step in and defuse the nonsense, Gabrian’s eyes glaze over from the thought that anyone could think Jarrison or Sarapheane would ever do such a thing. It rips at the tattered edges of her already-fragile heart. Finding the bitterness of rage that lies deep within her, Gabrian pushes back the longing to defend her parents and refuses to let her emotions get the better of her.

  Pointing her attention back in Gabrian’s direction, Vaeda’s face softens. Her eyes find the youngling’s glare, trying to invoke a sympathetic yet silent apology for the outburst from the Hydor Elder. “Gabrian, dear, would you mind telling us how it is that you came to know this invisible friend of yours?”

  Gabrian’s eyes shift, shooting out into the distance. Her need to find Shane is now a sudden priority. His eyes have never left her and he returns her pleading glance with a nod of encouragement, allowing her the knowledge that he is here for her no matter how this meeting turns out.

  How could she have known her childhood friend was a known killer returned from the grave? A few months ago, she had thought she was a mere human living an ordinary life.

  Holy crap they are going to crucify me. Her fists release from their intense grasp and her fingers involuntarily begin to tremble.

  In that moment, she hears a friendly word of advice.

  Just breathe, Gabrian.

  Her lock on Shane lessens and she shifts her stare to her never-faltering mentor. His words hum inside her head, helping her gather her sudden loss of courage, and she welcomes his kind intrusion. Pulling strength from his gentleness, she looks away and prepares to address the question.

  “I don’t...” she starts meekly when a huffing sound thunders across the table. Irritation edges its way back into her skin and she sits up in defiance, raising her chin to mirror the smug faces of those at the table challenging her integrity.

  She inhales in preparation to elevate the decibel level of her voice. “I don’t remember when or how it all began. I was merely a child but...I used to hear voices, or one voice in particular, just after my folks tucked me in bed and the lights had been turned out—a warm soothing voice that would beckon to me, asking me to come play with him down by the garden gate.”

  “And you didn’t think this to be an odd thing?”

  “I was a child, how would I know what was odd and what wasn’t?” she snaps, not caring who her tone may offend. Gabrian can’t help narrowing her eyes at the question mostly because it is Caspyous asking but partly because it is illogical to think a child would know the difference at such a young age, where imagination is more likely to factor into most equations.

  “Anyway...” she continues, looking away from the Hydor Elder and trying hard not to roll her eyes at him, “...he would ask me about my day and all the things I had done. We would play make-believe and he would tell me stories about imaginary worlds that he had been too, promising to take me one day.”

  The Elders begin to shuffle in their seats and heads turn to eye the reactions of their peers. Gabrian notices the stir but continues with her story, telling them of how pleasant their interactions always were and how frantic her parents seemed to be when they would appear out of nowhere in search for her. She never understood why they looked that way because she had always felt so happy and safe with Ayden. It dawns on her that maybe they had a good reason to be afraid.

  “He would ask about who I lived with. What they looked like, but he always seemed disappointed.” Her mind drifts back to their conversations—to his patience with her as she told her stories, always with a hint of sadness lingering in his gaze.

  A voice shreds through her unshared memory.

  “He was looking for her. He had to be,” Arramus suggests, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the smooth marble table. His grey smoky eyes jump from Elder to Elder until reaching Orroryn’s furrowed brow and rest there.

  Gabrian breaks from the image and her eyes rush to the source of the statement. “Looking for who?” she asks with the innocence of the child within, hearing the whispers burn across the fold.

  Arramus drops his knowing eyes from O
rroryn’s still silent position and turns them to acknowledge the youngling’s inquiry. “Cera,” he answers, words soft and free from authorities.

  The massive measure of a man that held the title of Elder of the Egni Fellowship shows no malice or anger in his gaze toward her but Gabrian’s skin still prickles at the sound of her birth mother’s name. It has been a while since anyone has mentioned that name, though her dreams remind her nightly about the woman. She sacrificed herself to help Gabrian through the mental gate and bring her back from the coma she had been stranded in just weeks ago—fighting her way through some twisted compulsion that Ethan says Ayden pulled her into in order to confuse what was real and what was not. And now, somehow her mother has been pulled into the messy midst of it all.

  “But...” Gabrian tucks her fingers together and bites down on the top of her folded knuckles, staring down at her feet in an effort not to snap. Lifting her eyes to seek out Ethan, she continues, “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he be looking for her?”

  Gabrian notices a slight shift at the table. A subtle yet uncomfortable glare exchanged between Orroryn and Vaeda is caught, not only by her, but by Elder Ethan as well.

  “Because she is the one who banished him to Erebus,” Vaeda reveals with a quiet but firm admittance of truth.

  Gabrian’s pupils dilate and her mind drifts back to her parents’ home. The memory of Sarapheane’s rendition of who she truly is—the story of the Realm and its secrets—screams out the recount of her birth and how she came to be. It was the night her birth mother risked her life to rid the world of a monster that was out of control. The story of a monster that had been once an honourable man stung by an incurable disease—a craving of life essence so strong it caused him to willingly stop fighting the madness within and surrender to the consumption of the fever to become a Vampire—or Vapir in terms of the Realm.

  A creature without remorse, or conscience—a creature she had been told was her father.