Shadow's Touch
Page 15
I didn’t bother to try and point out that he had not answered my question. Instead I leaned in, bowing my head. “Maxim. Who sent for me?”
His dark eyes were somber. “Those at Court.”
“What do they want with me?”
He picked up his glass this time and took a healthy slug from it. “I don’t know.” He began swirling the remaining wine again. “I have been told to guard you. To keep you safe. To try to appease you and keep you happy—within reason. To keep you at the manor. Little visits into town are acceptable, but beyond this, you are not to leave.”
“Barrister Corbett said they hoped this marriage between our two Courts would ease the tensions and dissent brewing among your people,” I shared. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”
“I could see how a member of the Court, such as Barrister Corbett, might believe that to be true,” Maxim acknowledged.
“But then why am I being sequestered here?”
“As far as I have been told, it is because the Court does not feel they have all the necessary facets in place.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Whether it is true or not, I cannot say. What I do believe is that you should leave the manor and return home. You are residing with someone who is unhinged. He is not of sound mind. You are in danger here . . . with him.”
I notched my chin and met Maxim’s eye. “I can’t.”
Maxim pinned me with a look. “He is truly a monster. He is not a Shadow. There is no Dark Light within him. He is something else. He does not walk this world as the rest of us. He is a shell. And all that you will find within is darkness and depravity.”
Maxim’s expression turned grave. “I have seen much evil and darkness in my lifetime. None of it has ever compared with the things he is capable of.” His eyes bored into mine, and they cinched slightly with conviction. “You should leave.”
I was about to repeat that I couldn’t. That I wouldn’t. But instead I asked, “Does he have some kind of influence over others?”
“Of course,” Maxim said simply.
I squirmed, pursing my lips together, not wanting to have to admit anything to Maxim. “What about attraction? Does he have some kind of influence over attraction? Like an incubus?”
Maxim looked sick. Closing his eyes and turning his head away for a moment. Then he did something very unexpected. He reached across and took my hands in his.
“I do not doubt that he is capable of a great many things. He is powerful. There is no telling what he is capable of. What kind of evil he has at his disposal.
“I was afraid of what might be done to you. Violet, please. Leave this place. Whatever you believe to be true. Whatever mission or agenda you pursue, this is not the way.”
I pulled my hands back. “Nothing has happened,” I replied.
“Your hands are very cold. Something chilling pumps through your veins. And your aura has dimmed since your first arrived.”
“I just haven’t been out in the sun for a while. That’s all. After a few hours of sunlight, I’ll be fine.”
I didn’t want to tell him what had happened. Instead I tried to shift the focus onto him. “Why are you sharing this with me?”
“Because I think you should know.”
“You really don’t wear glamours?” I asked.
Maxim shook his head.
“What about tall gaunt figures? Ones that have ashen skin and dark hair. Ones that have reflective eyes in the dark. Aren’t those your people? Isn’t that the true Shadow form?”
Maxim’s eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not. What you describe are the Umbra.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “What are they?”
Maxim’s tone sent chills down my spine. “Evil incarnate.”
“Can you explain?” I asked, hugging myself tighter.
“Not really. No,” he said simply. “How do you explain evil?” he asked. “I don’t know what to say other than that they are malevolence personified.”
He took another swig from his glass, draining it. “Imagine an ancient evil, seeping up from the earth and taking form . . . Deciding to walk among men. Wanting to infect and rule the night.
“The Umbra is an evil. A presence. It is not a being, but a collective spirit. Although it has taken physical form, it extends far beyond the nightmare figures. It is much more than individual beings.”
I eyed my own glass, rolling it between my palms. “I don’t understand why I was taught that the Umbra are the true form of the Shadows.”
Maxim’s shoulders bunched, and the dark slash of his brow intensified. “While we are unquestionably not the same . . . our histories are tied together.”
I raised my brows.
Maxim held up a finger and I felt as though I was being scolded. “However, this does not justify generalizing the entire Shadow race as dark and evil.”
I nodded. I didn’t say anything hoping Maxim would explain.
It must have been obvious because with a heavy exhale, he continued. “The ancient evil awoke and crawled up from the bowels of this world. They took form, becoming the Umbra. How and why they were released, I do not know.
“They were truly dark beings. They were not welcomed in the Light. The day would not have them. They could exist only in the darkness of night . . . the muted light . . . the Dark Light.
“Knowing they had been freed, knowing they would roam the night, the Dark King did not shun them. Instead he decided to rule them. He somehow mastered them. And in doing so, the Umbra became a royal guard, of sorts, for the Shadow kingdom.
“It is said that when the Dark King left this world he commanded them back into the depths from which they sprang and imprisoned them there. For he knew how capable, how horrible, and how vile they were. They could not be allowed to roam unleashed.
“Some speculate that the Umbra were part of the reason for the king’s departure. You see, as powerful and almighty as he was, he was not immune to the darkness of the Umbra. Over all the years spent under his command, their evil began to seep into the king. And while he was powerful enough to contain it—to control it—it began to weigh upon him.”
I interrupted Maxim again, desperate to understand. “If the Umbra harmed someone, could the Dark King undo it? You know, heal the individual who had been affected?”
Maxim looked suspicious. “What would prompt you to ask such a thing?”
I just shrugged.
After a moment’s hesitation Maxim finally replied. “That is not something I can answer. I do not know.”
It had been worth a shot to ask. But in the end, it really didn’t matter. Whether the king had been able to or not . . . it seemed his son could.
“What about the Dark Light? What is that? You referred to the tenebris as the symbol for the Dark Light.”
Maxim exhaled again. And whether he was weary of talking to me or felt he was sharing too much, I didn’t know.
“Violet, you and your people, you consider yourself to be of the Light. Do you not? You are Radiants. You find strength and power in radiant energy, specifically visible light. The brighter and stronger, the better.
“And I could be mistaken, but it seems that you believe yourselves to be the only ones who are of the Light. You view yourselves as more powerful and more virtuous than the rest of us. You are Light. You are good.
“What you fail to understand is that your dark brothers and sisters are also of the Light. However, it is of a different ilk. We are not the same, that is true. While you are children of the sun, of the day—we are children of the moon, of the night. We are of the Dark Light.
“Shadows too gain a level of power and energy from Dark Light. From the moon and the heavenly celestial bodies which shine down upon us.
“And you must remember that the moon is not her own source of light. She basks and glows in the light from the Sun, just as you do, to then shine down and share it with her children. Those of us in the night.
“The moon is balance. It
is the light in the dark. We are not dark people. Not evil. We are of the Light. The same as you. Except our light is that of the moon—the Dark Light. You see us as the Umbra, but nothing is further from the truth.
“We are all of the Light in some way or another. All who breathe, who exist, who truly live in this world hold within them a spark. The way this Light ebbs and flows through us all may differ, but at the most basic elemental state . . . it courses through us all.
“Yet, it seems, that you and your people have decided since you shine the brightest, since you rely the heaviest, and since you wield the most power in terms of Light—that only you possess its warmth . . . its goodness.”
Maxim sat back, clearly done with his explanation. He gazed at me with those solemn gray eyes. There was conviction there, and I found my respect for him reaffirmed.
I could understand a little of his point. Because, like Killian, he had an apparent goodness. He had a certain strength of character that was admirable and undeniable. And if he was a Shadow who possessed this decency, then perhaps there was some validation to his point.
In spite of that acknowledgment though, I found Maxim’s explanation confusing. Try as I might, it was difficult to believe that we shared a commonality between us.
“Why then,” I asked him, “do your people feed from us? From our Light?”
Maxim closed his eyes and shook his head before looking at me with disappointment. “What nonsense about my race do you speak of now?”
I pinned him with a stare. I would not be made to feel foolish. It was his people who were attacking mine. “The attacks upon Radiants by Shadows. I have been out there in the night, fighting for years now. Innocent civilians, children, are dying at the hands of Shadows.”
“And you believe it is because Shadows wish to feed from you? No. Violet, Shadows do not feed from Radiants.”
At that his phone rang. When he looked down at the caller ID, his jaw clenched. Leaning towards me and placing his hand over my own, me he murmured, “I suggest you return home and have a long talk with the leaders at court about why those attacks occur.”
Standing from the booth he said, “Please wait here. I will be just a moment.” Then he gave a nod to Rheneas and Stefan before exiting the rear entry of the inn.
I didn’t know what Maxim was insinuating with his last comment, and I exhaustedly filed it away as yet another detail I would have to look into.
And although I had come to like and even respect Maxim, I didn’t wait for him to come back. Knowing that it would unfortunately piss him off and knowing that Rheneas and Stefan would follow me . . . I left the inn.
◆◆◆
“I ain’t done nutin’ wrong.” Belcalis pursed her lips and threw her hands up, showing her palms. “Just cause some of y’alls people need my services don’t mean I’m doing anything wrong. And I’m registered with the Shadow Court, and I have my witch’s permit up to date, so I ain’t doing nutin’ wrong.”
Although Rheneas and Stefan had insisted on standing in front of me as a sort of shield, I could still see Belcalis over their shoulders at the door to her camper. Today she wore a black satin jumpsuit with a plunging neckline that placed her ample cleavage on display. Over the jumper was a white open sleeve jacket that had large black symbols painted on it. Her shoulder length hair was straight and had an ombre effect which started as black at the roots and ended in silver at the ends. Her long pointy nails were an ice blue.
And while it wasn’t a look I would try to pull off myself, I had to hand it to Belcalis—the witch had style.
I pushed past Rheneas and Stefan. “It’s fine,” I told her. “They’re with me.”
Belcalis pursed her lips again and gave me a once over. “You?” she said with her Bronx accent, “I gave you some quality, grade A shit the other night.”
She looked at Rheneas and Stefan and added, “All totally legal.” Then she turned back to me, “You ain’t got no reason to bring the authorities.”
“I’m not,” I groused. “They’re following me.”
As I had suspected, Maxim’s underlings had been right on my heels. The instant I had set foot outside the inn, one of them—I wasn’t quite sure which was which—had grabbed my elbow to stop me.
I had immediately wanted to claw out his eyes, just to make a point, but instead I stared at his hand on my arm as if it were a maggot I was about to squish.
To his credit he didn’t let go, and while his grasp was firm, he was in no way aggressive. He looked at me in all earnest. “You’re not safe out here,” he said. “You need to go back inside. Wait for the master-at-arms. And allow him to escort you home. Your actual home.”
There was what seemed like genuine concern in his tone. So I tried to show some consideration in return. “Look, I just want to visit the witch at the vegetable stand across the street. I won’t spend more than five minutes there. Then I will go straight back to the manor. Okay?”
I looked back at the inn. “I really don’t want to make Maxim’s life more difficult. I’m not trying to run out on him, or anything like that. I just need five minutes with the witch.”
So naturally, they had insisted on coming with me. In all honesty I was surprised they had been so accommodating. I had been certain I would have to knock them both out or make a run for it.
“Just ignore them,” I told Belcalis. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”
She looked like she was about to say no, so I added, “I’ll compensate you for your time, of course.”
Just then I heard sniffling behind Belcalis. When she turned back to look at the sound, I was able to see through the camper door that a young woman was sitting at the small dining table, crying.
Belcalis stepped out of the camper and shut the door behind her. “I’m with somebody right now.”
“Fine,” I told her. “Can I make an appointment?”
She eyed Rheneas and Stefan before glancing at my clutch. She seemed to be contemplating something for a moment before turning back to the closed door of her camper.
“I know that!” she snapped. “But this ain’t worth it!” Then she turned fully around to face the camper and put her hands on her hips. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re the one who is always sayin’ you can’t fix stupid! And there ain’t no fixin’ this.”
Belcalis jerked her thumb over her shoulder in my direction as she made her last statement. She was obviously talking about me with her ghost granny—and it rankled. Couldn’t they save their conversations about how dumb I was for after I left? I cleared my throat.
Belcalis turned back towards us bringing her hands together in a peaceful prayer gesture and a smile plastered across her face. Her voice was all sweetness. “I can fit you in tomorrow right at dusk.” In her best receptionist voice, she added, “Cash only. Large bills preferred.”
She turned to reach for the camper door. “Wait,” I said, “One more thing.” Belcalis turned back and I held up the flyer. “Where is this taking place?”
I could feel Rheneas and Stefan shift behind me, and I had a feeling they were trying to decide if they should intervene at that moment. But to my surprise, they didn’t stop Belcalis when she replied, “The old part of town. At the other end of the main street.” Belcalis didn’t wait for a response. Without a farewell, she entered her camper and shut the door behind her.
Chapter 19
She was beautiful. She was chilling. She was an exquisite nightmare.
There was no glow, no hue, to her alabaster skin, and yet her black hair shined in the firelight. Even pinned up, it was obvious it would tumble down her back in a thick luster if left free. Her black lips, black nails, and the black lining of her eyes amplified the stark contrast of paper white skin. And the black gown she wore was so dark it seemed to absorb any light the moment it came near.
But the most strangely beautiful part of her, were her gray crystalline eyes. They looked as though they had frozen over one day and never thawed.
She entered my suite as if expected, as if it were her own space. There had been no knock, no hesitant greeting. I had merely been a squatter in her domain.
But none of that bothered me. What made my instincts immediately begin a steady pump of adrenaline through my system, were those strange beautiful eyes . . . They were soulless. Lifeless. There was no light in her eyes. Nothing but a deep pit of darkness lay within.
And behind her trailed two of those things. The Umbra, Maxim had called them. I would not have thought it possible, but they were even more harrowing then I had remembered.
All three of them simply walked in.
I did nothing at first. It embarrasses me to admit, but I did nothing. I was confused. I could not connect what was happening with the concept of security I had constructed within my quarters.
She looked around the sitting room with distaste before settling her lifeless gaze upon me. There was nothing but contempt in her expression. And it was enough to finally set me into action.
I jumped up from the settee, grabbing the dagger of Light strapped to my thigh. But before I could do anything with it, she gave a bored flick of her hand and the dagger went flying into the fireplace on its own accord.
“Don’t bother,” she said. She spoke with a sophisticated British accent that was silky and dark. It was void of any brightness or vitality and it sent chills down my spine.
“Come with me,” she commanded. And as if I would undoubtedly follow, she turned for the door.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
She spun around, crossing to me, and backhanded me. The motion had been so fast I hadn’t been able to block her blow.
She grabbed my face in her hand, her nails digging into my skin like claws. “Do not test me, girl,” she hissed. “There is nothing I would like more than to let my little pets have their way with you. They put on a wonderful show when they are granted a treat. I do ever so enjoy watching them play.”