Lost in Shadows

by J. Kenner

  I couldn't be certain, though, and that was my sister in there. And I wasn't leaving her alone with a demon battle going on in the alley behind her.

  I burst through the double doors so violently that all heads in the bar turned to look at me, Rachel and Rose included. I signaled to them to follow me, and they rushed to my side at a secluded table near the kitchen.

  "Demons," I said, keeping my voice low enough that the few late-afternoon patrons didn't hear me. "In the alley."

  "Are they still out there?" Rachel asked, sidling closer to me.

  "No." The answer came from behind us, and I turned to find Deacon standing in the door to the kitchen. “It's safe."

  Rachel looked between me and Deacon.

  "Where's Kiera?"

  I shot Deacon a significant look, afraid that Kiera had seen Deacon toss me my key, and had drawn the wrong—or, technically, the right—conclusion. "I don't know," I said, my voice dark.

  "Right," Rachel said briskly. "You know what? I'm shutting the bar down early tonight anyway. I can take Rose home with me."

  I hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. Thanks. I just need to have a little chat with Deacon before you close up."

  She nodded stiffly. "Sure. No problem."

  Beside her, I saw Rose blink back tears. I wanted to rage and to scream and to beat Lucas Johnson to a bloody pulp. That, however, was nothing new. Instead, I pressed a kiss to the top of Rose's head. "We're going to be okay," I said. "I promise."

  And my sister—my sweet, trusting sister—nodded. And didn't say one word about all the promises I'd already broken.

  I couldn't think about that now. I'd made a promise to keep Rose safe, and I'd blown it in a big way. But maybe, just maybe, I could somehow make it all come out right in the end.

  To do that, though, I needed to know who my allies were. And right then, I feared I'd messed up on that one big-time.

  I pointed a finger at Deacon. "You. Outside. Now."

  I followed him back out to the alley. Not only did I want privacy, but I wanted to see for myself that the demon hordes had disappeared. They had. All I saw when we went out back was the dank filth of a dark alleyway, the afternoon light filtering through the dust like a curtain.

  "They're getting more aggressive," Deacon said. "Stay with me, Lily. You and Rose. We need to make sure you're safe."

  "Safe?" I repeated, my temper snapping. "Is that what you call it?"

  He wore the dark glasses still, but he cocked his head, as if I were a curious animal in a zoo.

  "Dammit, Deacon," I said. "Do not fuck with me."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "You," I said, slamming him against a brick wall and getting right in his face. Heat arced between us, and I hated myself for noticing it. For letting it weaken me. Because right then I needed to be strong. "You son of a bitch," I said, my voice a low, vicious hum. "You want the Oris Clef. You've been looking for it all along. And I'm pretty sure you have the third relic, too."

  I realized then that my arm was burning, and glanced down, hoping to see that the tattoo was lit up, wishing that I could whip through the portal right then, right there, and retrieve the damn thing from wherever Deacon had hidden it.

  The tat wasn't lit, though, and I had no explanation why my arm was doing its skin-on-fire routine.

  "I search only for the key to lock the gates, Lily. And you damn well know it."

  "I don't," I said as the air cracked between us. "I wish I did, but I've seen things, Deacon."

  "What things?"

  "Dangerous things," I whispered, pitching my voice low and bringing my body in close. I wanted him—so help me, I did—but right then I wanted the truth more. "Why doesn't Clarence want you dead? Why did the demon I killed earlier believe that you're on a quest for the Oris Clef? How did you know that we were in China?" My lips brushed over his ear, and I heard a low growl rise in his throat. "You've been playing me, Deacon, and I don't much like it."

  The growl turned into a roar, and he grabbed my shoulders, whipping us around and slamming my back to the wall. "Playing you?" he asked, his hand skimming down my thigh, then gliding back up to cup my crotch. "Have I been?" His mouth closed over mine, and my knees went weak. I was held up only by his kiss and his intimate touch, and dammit—dammit—the man had me losing my head.

  "Maybe I have been playing you," he continued as soon as he broke the kiss. This time it was his voice that was low, edgy. "But only because I want you. Because I need you. And not to find the Oris Clef. If I wanted to, I could find that key all on my own."

  My heart was pounding in my chest. "What do you mean?"

  He slid his hands up my body, bringing his hips in close. I could feel his erection, and I wanted him. Wanted him so desperately, and I hated myself for craving him. For needing him. He was darkness. He was danger. And yet somehow, when he touched me, the darkness inside seemed to fade, and the demons I'd absorbed backed off.

  I needed that.

  I needed him.

  Right then, however, was not the time.

  I needed answers, not lust, and I was determined to get them.

  Before he could react, I reached up and ripped his glasses off. His eyes met mine, and I held on, my hands on either side of his face, holding him still. I felt the snap, had one moment of regret that I'd yet to learn stealth, and I let myself get sucked inside even as Deacon's guttural curse echoed in my ears.

  Darkness. Darkness and blood and the scent of rotting, moldering flesh.

  Tentacles, long and deadly.

  And an open mouth, saliva dripping, teeth gleaming.

  All searching. All looking. Trying to find the one who betrayed.

  Huge wings spread wide. Flapping as they moved through the night. Searching . . . Searching . . .

  Finding.

  He's there. Deacon Camphire, and the beast swoops down and gathers him up.

  "You will give it back. You will return what you took."

  And then the darkness. And screams. And the pain, the pain, the unyielding pain. Hot needles to the flesh. Poison in the veins. A hammer to the head. And worse, worse, so much worse.

  Until it fades.

  A respite.

  A gift.

  A woman.

  Alice.

  No, me. Lily.

  And I'm touching him. Touching the pain, soothing the pain.

  Taking the pain in and changing it. Making it bearable. Making it fade.

  I save him.

  But I don't understand from what.

  I jerked violently.

  I was out, and Deacon had backed off, his breath coming fast, his expression furious. "Goddamn it, Lily."

  "You don't want it," I said, the pieces I'd seen finally coming together. "You weren't trying to find the Oris Clef. You were trying to hide it."

  "I worked for Penemue," he said, his voice dark. "When he realized I was no longer loyal, he tossed me into the pit."

  I licked my lips. "That's how you became a Tri-Jal."

  He met my eyes. "I deserve the mark of the Tri-Jal, Lily. The things I have done—"

  "—you tried to rectify." I took his hand. "Deacon. Do you know where the third piece is?"

  "I've already told you, Lily. It's too dangerous. The key restored is too dangerous to be in the hands of Penemue or Kokbiel."

  "I would never let them get it."

  "It is too dangerous even for you."

  "But—"

  “I destroyed it," he said flatly.

  "I thought it couldn't be destroyed."

  He looked me dead in the eye. "I managed."

  But I didn't get the chance to speak. Because at the end of the alley, I saw Kiera, her eyes wide, her expression one of utter betrayal.

  I realized my clothes were askew, and that she'd seen me clinging to Deacon.

  She'd seen.

  And she'd assume I was cavorting with the enemy.

  "Kiera!" I called, but it was too late. She was gone.

  I tu
rned to Deacon. "She's going to go to Clarence, dammit. She may not understand completely, but he will. He'll know exactly what game I've been playing."

  "Where? Where will she go to meet him?"

  I didn't know. "We never have a planned meeting place. Zane's. Sometimes he shows up at my apartment."

  "No matter where Kiera meets Clarence, the question is, where will Clarence want to meet you? If he believes that you are a traitor, would he assume that Zane would be his ally? Or his enemy?"

  I wasn't certain what Clarence would think. For that matter, I wasn't certain what Zane would do. He had no allegiance to the dark. Of that, I'd become certain. But he wanted his reward, and if he helped me, they would certainly take away the promise of mortality.

  "I don't know."

  Deacon nodded, and I could see that he was thinking. "Your apartment," he said finally. "I could be wrong, but I think Clarence would want to confront you there, where he first met you. Back when he was in control. In Zane's basement, you're stronger."

  "I'm stronger in my apartment, too."

  "And that's why you're going to win." He took my hand. "I'm coming with you."

  "No. I need you watch out for Rachel and Rose. If Clarence is onto me, that's how he'll try to hurt me."

  He hesitated, then agreed. I think he knew better than to argue with me where Rose was concerned.

  My apartment isn't that far from the Bloody Tongue, and I made the trip in record time, barely even paying attention to where I was going. Only driving. And imagining what I would do when I saw Clarence. Because everything hinged on him now. Everything.

  Deacon had destroyed the third relic. I had no idea how he'd managed that, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that it didn't exist, and apparently no one realized that, a fact that gave me the tiniest bit of bargaining power. Because, hey, I was Map Girl. And if you were still in the process of searching for treasure, you didn't destroy the map, right?

  Except I wasn't so much worried about being destroyed as I was about being tortured. Which was why I had to win this round.

  More than that, I had a plan. A simple, brilliant plan, and one I had yet to share with Deacon. But I was certain it would work. It would, because it had to. I was running out of options here, and I figured it was my turn to have some luck, if not for me, then for Rose.

  If Penemue and Clarence and Kokbiel all still thought the third key existed, then Johnson did, too. And once I got the incantation out of Clarence's head for the Vessel of the Keeper, then what was to stop me from telling Johnson that I was going after the third relic?

  Nothing, right?

  And he'd insist on coming along for the ride, planning on ambushing me for the full Oris Clef. But it wouldn't matter. Because we'd pull Rose out of Johnson, hide her in the vessel, and get the hell out of there, my sister disembodied but safe and Johnson stuck with his thumb up his ass.

  I'll admit I was still fuzzy on the details—like how long she could stay in the vessel before we found her a suitable body—but on the whole, the plan worked for me.

  Best of all, it got Rose free of Johnson and me free of Clarence. There were still almost two weeks left until the convergence, and with Rose safe, I'd happily spend that time searching for this lost legendary key that Deacon seemed to be so convinced existed.

  On the whole, my plan put me in a happy place, the only downer the fact that for it to work, I had to kill Clarence.

  In theory, that didn't bother me.

  In practice, I had to wonder what kind of tricks the wily beast had up his sleeve. Because I had a feeling there was a lot more to Clarence than met the eye.

  I expected to see them both outside my apartment when I got off the elevator. But there was no one. And since Clarence wasn't allowed in my apartment without permission—and I now realized that must be part of the protections—I almost turned around and headed back to the pub and Deacon.

  But I didn't. For all I knew, the revelation of me as a traitor to the dark cause destroyed the protections. At the very least, I had to look.

  I pulled my knife out and held it ready as I unlocked the front door, then pushed it open.

  And there he was.

  Clarence stood in my living room, his squat body in front of the window, and a beer in his hand. Beside him, Kiera was stretched out in a chair, her feet kicked up on my coffee table.

  She turned to look at me, her eyes dark and anger rolling off her in waves. "You fucking bitch," she said, which was Clarence's cue to turn around and face me with big, sad eyes.

  "How did you guys get in?" I asked, keeping my voice light, deciding to play this as if I were completely innocent.

  Kiera cocked her head. "Duh. You think your crappy lock would keep me out?"

  "I'll have to remember to upgrade," I said. I kept my knife in my hand—which probably destroyed the whole "innocent" thing—and headed toward them.

  "What were you doing?" Kiera asked. "Why the hell were you up close and personal with Deacon Camphire?”

  "Oh, for fuck's sake," I said, shooting for an annoyed, yet casual, tone. "That's what this is about? What do you think I was doing? Trying to get close to the guy. Trying to figure out what he knows, because I've been getting weird vibes about him for a long time." I looked straight at Clarence. "You know what I mean, right?"

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn't say a word. Interesting. This was the first time I'd seen Clarence do the silent-guy routine. I couldn't say I liked it much.

  "You looked close to the guy, all right," Kiera said.

  I rounded on her. "Dammit, Kiera, do you really believe I'm working for the dark side? I'm fighting my nature, just like you. We're alike, you and I, so you tell me—what side are you on?"

  She leaned forward, kicking her feet to the ground, ready to lunge. "I know exactly what side I'm on. And I know what I saw."

  "You saw me and Deacon," I said. "You saw me finding out where the third relic is."

  Across the room, Clarence hissed in a breath. I turned my back to Kiera and walked to him. "And thanks so much for the support, both of you. I mean, God! I go out and try to do one thing—one really good, solid thing—and you both assume the worst of me."

  "You're certain about the piece?" Clarence asked.

  I nodded.

  "How? How can you be sure?"

  The beer in his hand was empty, and I took it from him. This was going to be the tricky part. "I was afraid you wouldn't approve," I said as I wandered into the kitchen. "So I didn't tell you. But I've suspected he knew something for a long time. And I wanted to figure it out on my own." I opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, then looked back toward him as I popped off the lid. "You're probably really mad at me, huh?"

  "I'm not happy," he said. "But if the information is good . . ."

  "Oh, I think it's solid." I brought the beer back to him. And when I did I made sure our hands touched. And I made sure I looked into his eyes.

  And then—yes—I was in. And in a split second, I saw it all. The knowledge and innate skill to spin the incantations. The ability to master the map that even now burned on my arm. To find things—relics, vessels, keys, and more.

  I didn't find a damn thing about Deacon's legendary key, but I didn't have time to look either. I'd only wanted a peek. Wanted to make certain the incantations came from him—from his very essence—and not from a book.

  I wanted to make sure that by killing him, I'd gain the ability I needed. That I would truly become an Incantor.

  I was certain now.

  I jerked free even as he was still howling in surprise and protest.

  Barely any time had passed at all, but it was enough for Kiera, and as I thrust my knife forward to strike Clarence, she tackled me from the side, sending my blade askew.

  It skimmed over his body, slicing his shirt and drawing a thin line of black, demonic goo, but it didn't kill him. It didn't even come close.

  "You idiot!" I screamed as I deflected her blows. "He's a demon. He's a goddamned,
fucking demon."

  I rolled her over so that she could see, and knew that she believed when I heard her whispered curse. The black goo was proof enough.

  But I realized what had really convinced her when I scrambled to my feet—Clarence, his clothing ripping as his demonic form burst free. Wings sprouting. Talons growing.

  And angry, buggy eyes fixed right on me.

  24

  “What the fuck is going on?” Kiera screamed, but I had no time to answer. Clarence was alive. Alive and pissed and seriously deadly.

  For the first time in our short acquaintance, I was really and truly afraid of the dude. Because this wasn't my mild-mannered, froggy handler. This was a full-fledged powerful demon. Penemue's right-hand guy.

  "Bitch," he snarled. "Traitorous fiend."

  "Me?" I countered, my knife out as I circled him, trying to guess how he was going to attack. "I'm not the one who lied and pretended to be heaven's messenger. Who the hell are you?" I demanded, because there was no way I was believing this beast's name was Clarence.

  "I am Clarvek," he said. "And you will join me."

  Behind me, Kiera sucked in air. Right then, I wasn't much concerned about her shifting perspective on the world, though. Right then, I simply needed to get Clarvek dead.

  "Screw that."

  "You are as much a servant of the dark as I am," Clarvek said, his wings spread wide.

  "The hell I am," I said, and I lunged at him, reckless and wild, but he'd played the one card that was guaranteed to get under my skin. Because no matter how much I might wish otherwise, the darkness was in me.

  And you know what? Right then, I welcomed it. Welcomed the need to kill. The desire to maim. The absolute keening need to take another demon in my hands and suck down its life force.

  I had only my blade on me, but I was making the most of it, twirling and darting, calling upon all the demons inside me, all of their tricks, all of their strength.

  Even so, I was barely a match for Clarvek. He'd been around for a while, that boy, and he was fast. He lashed out with his talons, his arms now wings that knocked me over in a rush of air and fury.