Shadow's Touch

by T. M. Hart

  I had lifted the bandage over his chest to check his wound. It was gone as if it had never been. The three intersecting crescents restored.

  I looked above us. While the currents floating through the air had begun to dissipate, a few lazy petals remained as well as some fragments of Light and veils of shadows. I sighed at the peace and rubbed my face against the skin on Zagan’s chest.

  I felt his large strong hand pet my hair. I rolled on top of him, feeling his erection between my thighs. I nipped at his lip. I was instantly wet and ready for him.

  I wanted to talk with him. I needed to. And I would. Just not yet.

  Instead of pushing into me, though, he placed his hand on my hips and stilled me. I looked at him with uncertainty. He shook his head.

  “No.” He said the word quietly.

  I was confused. “What’s wrong?”

  “We can’t do this,” he told me.

  “Last night—”

  “I thought last night was the end. I didn’t realize . . ." he searched to put into words what had happened between us. What had happened to him.

  I sat up on him. Pinning him with my gaze. “You can’t take it back Zagan. You don’t get to do that.”

  He didn’t look at me though. His eyes had traveled down to my chest. A look of horror crossed his face.

  I looked down myself. Uncertain what was happening. And I saw it there.

  It was imperceptible. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed it on my own. It was not really something you could see directly. But he knew the symbol all too well, and it had not escaped his view.

  A faint gray outline of three intertwined crescents sat above my heart.

  He set me onto the bed and scrambled off the mattress, backing away from me. His hair was mussed, and his eyes turned wild.

  “Do you see? Do you see what I will do to you?”

  I sat on my knees and covered my chest with my discarded dress. I didn’t want him to look at the mark which was clearly setting him off.

  “Last night—” I began.

  “Last night was supposed to be the end,” he countered. “You were going to be free from me. I didn’t know any of this would happen. I was supposed to die. I thought I would no longer be able to ruin you. To drag you down into the dark.”

  His fists clenched at his sides and the muscles in his chest and abdomen flexed and bunched with heavy breathing. “What will it take to make you understand? What will it take to drive you away? Have you no self-respect? Look at where you are.” He gestured to the dirt floor and crumbling walls. Then he pointed at my chest. “Look at yourself!”

  His eyes slitted and his jaw tightened. “All because you have some idea that this is love.”

  The anger I felt at his words, the hurt, sent a hot fury scorching through my veins. “This!” I flung my hand back and forth between us. “This isn’t love! Love is something that can be broken. Something that you can walk away from.”

  “This,” I flung my hand between us again. “This is a curse. The gods have cursed me.”

  I sat up on my knees, clutching the dress to my body. “And curses are fucking hard to break. They’re stronger than love. They last. They don’t end. They follow you across this universe and the next.

  “I will be cursed by you for eternity. I don’t know how or why. But I can feel it. And I hate you for it. I hate that I somehow know, without a doubt, that I will want you for the entirety of this immortal life.”

  I shifted to the edge of the bed, closer to him and my voice dropped. “I know you feel it too Zagan Black. I know that I will always be under your skin. You will always itch for me. There will never be a night when you don’t reach for me. Every tick of the clock will drive you closer to the brink of madness.”

  I stepped onto the floor and looked up at him. I gave a shuddering exhale. “Well maybe it will make you happy knowing I will always be in the same god forsaken hell hole.”

  I stood there, breathing heavily, pinning him with my gaze. I silently prayed for him to want me. To reach out to me. To hold onto me.

  But instead, black veins branched through his eyes. And in a deep, pained whisper, he said, “Go.”

  I did not run. I did not flee. There was no need to. I was leaving.

  If last night wasn’t enough to get through to him, nothing would be. He had told me when I first arrived that I couldn’t save him. And I realized he had been right.

  Zagan had been taken from me long ago, and he wasn’t coming back.

  I didn’t know what was between us. It was something powerful, something impossible to deny. I would be bound to him forever, and I didn’t understand why. But perhaps I didn’t need to. Perhaps all I needed to understand was that I couldn’t reach him.

  I decided to stop trying.

  ◆◆◆

  I didn’t bathe. I wanted to keep the smell of Zagan’s skin covering my own for as long as I could. But I did change.

  I hung the rose petal dress in the very back of my closet, knowing that I would want it sent along with all my other garments. It would be one of those things. A thing I would never let go of, but a thing which would remain tucked away and hidden. Too painful to revisit.

  It was a tad dramatic, but I had chosen to wear the same dress I had worn upon my arrival to the manor. I clasped my cloak and pocketed my dagger. The only other items I carried were some bills and my phone.

  I left everything else as it was. I hoped that Maxim would assist me with one final favor and see to it that my things were collected and sent home.

  I was going to walk to town, and call Killian there. I would ask him if one of the Angela could retrieve me. If not, I would keep walking until they could.

  I knew it was a risk to leave. But I had ventured out safely once before. I believed I could do it again. I doubted The Contessa would simply be waiting for me somewhere. Instead, I suspected she would come for me whenever she had the necessary means.

  I couldn’t stay at the manor. Not any longer. I also did not want to lead The Contessa back to the Radiant Court. So I would take Killian up on his offer. I would stay at his penthouse while I figured some things out.

  I needed to talk with my mother. I had to find out how much she knew about Zagan. How much she knew about this entire situation and what was going on between us.

  I descended through the dark silence of the manor for a final time. The air did not stir around me. I did not disturb the shadows which inhabited the place. And I wondered why that was. Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps I was becoming one myself.

  I reached the towering doors at the grand entrance. I raised my hand about to push open the door and free myself of the Dark Manor.

  Far off power crackled behind me.

  I turned.

  She stood at the center of the main hall. At the very heart of the manor. Her tattered cowl drawn, backed by the moonlight which poured in from the rear windows.

  The Crone’s ancient voice broke the silence of the night. “You leave.” It was a statement and not a question.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  She folded her hands inside the sleeves of her robe. “Cannot.”

  “Look, the prince doesn’t want me here. And frankly I don’t want to be here anymore. I think it would be best for everyone if I just go.”

  “Cannot,” she repeated.

  I began to get frustrated. “There’s no point in me staying here.”

  She removed a hand and beckoned me with one long gnarled finger. I took a few steps closer to her. In a barely audible whisper she said, “Needs you.”

  When I began to protest she held out a hand. There was power in the command and I was silenced. “Must help him. Find the Light. Lost so long ago.”

  I sucked in a breath. “You know?”

  She waved her hand in impatience. “Silly child. Think I a fool? Has a role to play. Destiny to fulfill. Cannot without you.”

  “Honestly, I don’t give a damn about any of it. Find someone else to be his punchin
g bag.” I turned from the Crone and headed for the door.

  The Crone took a deep wheezing breath, drawing on that far off power, and in a loud voice she called after me. “He’s dying.” The words rang through the hall, an unwelcome intrusion upon the quiet space, and the shadows lingering there shifted and swayed before settling back down.

  I turned around to stare at her. She was a still hunched figure barely visible in the darkness. “He’s healed now,” I countered.

  The whisper of her ancient voice floated through the air. “Not enough,” she insisted. “Know you not the tortures he has endured. She of great darkness did everything in her power to snuff the Light of the Halfling. It has been a slow death. Strong he is to have lasted for so long, but the end nears.”

  “Halfling?” I murmured.

  “He is both. Of the Light and the Shadows. The only of his kind. As the ancients were. There is no one more powerful. It is why she wants him. Yet he is weak without the Light. He cannot survive without it. Know you the way of your kind. Know you what you are to him. What he is to you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded.

  She laughed then, an eerie sound, and my skin chilled. “Ah, how they keep their children ignorant.” She shuffled towards me. She came right up to me. Still I could see nothing under her cowl.

  “Every thousand years. One male. One female. Each for the other. Wove a spell, your council did, into the fabric of your world. Only that male for that female. Only that female for that male. None other will do. None other will spark interest. All others dry sand in mouth.”

  She began to shuffle away, her voice floating behind her. “You leave, his not the only death. His of the body. Yours of the soul. Desolate, forsaken life without him.”

  I called after her to wait, but she disappeared into the darkness. I took a few steps after her. It was no use, though. She was gone, having vanished like an apparition.

  I didn’t know what she spoke of. I wanted to brush it off as senile nonsense, but I knew better—It was the connection we shared.

  Yet, her words did not convince me to stay. More than ever, I needed answers. I needed to return to the Radiant Court.

  There was nothing I could do here at the manor. I couldn’t save someone who didn’t want to be saved. And I had already known my life was forsaken. I had realized it down in that dark, empty bedroom.

  Although I did wonder with a sad and heartbreaking curiosity what had happened to Zagan. What had he been through . . . Something told me, I didn’t truly want to know.

  But I had tried. What more could I do? It was time for me to go. I would try another avenue to find a resolution for all that was at stake. I opened the manor door and a bitter gust of wind whipped past me, blowing back my hair and cloak.

  Somewhere, an animal bayed.

  I dashed down the front drive and made my way straight for the wrought iron gate. I didn’t know the command to open it, but as I reached the imposing structure, it began to swing inward.

  I turned to survey the Dark Manor and surrounding grounds. On the cliff above the manor stood a figure outlined by the full moon. He had opened the gate for me. I had been granted passage. It was further confirmation that he did not want me here. And I crossed into the tree tunnel.

  Chapter 28

  They were waiting for me about halfway through. The reflection of their lifeless eyes made me stop in my tracks. I turned and ran for the gate. I was fast. And I had almost made it back. My arm outstretched for the iron.

  But they had a way of moving, of chasing after me, of shedding their physical bodies which hindered them so that they were upon me. I tried to lash out at them with my dagger, but it passed through them. They were not solid.

  The dagger turned cold. The Light within extinguished. A chill began to creep up my arm and against all my better instincts, I threw the blade away. The skin over my chest turned so cold, it burned.

  I tried to release a bomb blast of energy, I wanted to scorch them with Light. But my power was shoved back down, as though I was forced to swallow it.

  I still don’t know how they were able to take me. They did not breathe into me and I did not go willingly, but somehow the two Umbra resumed their physical form and dragged me up the cliff that overlooked the manor.

  She waited there. In her long black gown and paper white skin. Her crystallized eyes twinkled. I darted my gaze around the cliff. There was no Zagan. I had mistaken The Contessa for him. It was she who had commanded the gate to open and allow me passage.

  The Umbra held me in place. I could not break their hold. Behind me was the edge of the cliff. In front of me the terrain sloped down. Zagan appeared at the bottom of the slope. He had known something was wrong.

  He saw me, saw the Umbra, and his rage was so great, the earth shook. But before he could act, The Contessa flicked a whip she held. And it encircled his neck. The leather remained wrapped around his throat, and it was clear this was no ordinary whip. It was drenched in dark magic.

  As Zagan’s hands flew to his neck in an attempt to free himself from the binding, The Contessa launched two consecutive kicks to his knees. Her speed and power were unparalleled. I only knew that was what she had done because Zagan’s bones were completely fractured. The anatomy there had been pulverized.

  He collapsed to the ground, unable to stand. Yet he remained as upright as possible, kneeling on his shattered knees and trying to break the whip encircling his neck.

  While the Umbra held me in place, The Contessa stood next to Zagan. She cradled his head at her waist. As I had been, he seemed unable to lash out at her.

  “My pet,” she purred. “Have you missed me? Tell me you have. I am ever so happy you have come. I was hoping you would.”

  The whip made it difficult for Zagan to speak. But he fought against the magic of the binding. And with the tendons in his neck straining, he stared at me.

  His words were deep. Guttural. Strained. “I will always come for her.”

  I felt it was an atonement of sorts . . .

  To this day, I believe if The Contessa and her Umbra had not been there, Zagan would have wisped into the tree tunnel just before I had reached the end of it—because it had been too late. We had passed the point of no return. I do not suppose he would have physically been able to stop himself from coming after me.

  We were now linked, unequivocally, in a way that went beyond our control. And Perhaps I wouldn’t have been able to travel any farther than the tree tunnel, myself. Perhaps I would have been forced to turn back. Unable to escape the hold he had on me.

  Perhaps the two of us would have remained locked away forever in the large silent manor, full of ghosts and shadows. But maybe there would have been Light too. Maybe little by little, I would have brightened the darkness that consumed his heart.

  I would never know.

  Because The Contessa and her Umbra had, in fact, come for us. And she took delight in taunting Zagan. She licked his cheek and I shut my eyes, unable to bear the sight of her touching him. “Did you show our guest some of the things I’ve taught you?”

  She eyed me then. “No probably not. She’s just a little girl. She would have run from you screaming.” She let out a bone chilling laugh. “But finally, you have effectuated the Vinculum. You have done well. I am pleased. Like a good little pet, you have served your purpose.”

  Her voice dropped, and The Contessa seemed to hum with anticipation. “The girl is ready.”

  I did not know what the Vinculum was, but I had a feeling it had to do with the supernatural connection Zagan and I had to one another. After being together, something had shifted. And for whatever reason, it seemed The Contessa had wanted the binding between us solidified.

  I hitched in a breath, realizing it was why she had arranged everything as she had. Why I had been extended the proposal. Why I was to reside at the Dark Manor. It was why she had spelled my dreams. This entire time, she had been pushing us closer and closer.

  I swore in
that moment—if I ever had the chance again—I would listen to the Crone.

  The Contessa skimmed a black nail over Zagan’s bare collarbone. And I wanted to claw her eyes out. The possession I felt towards Zagan was unlike anything I could have imagined. A very primal part of my being seethed . . . She should not touch what is mine.

  The navy blue of the night sky turned black as roiling dark clouds swept across the sky. A torrent of rain began to pound down on us.

  One hand remained on the handle of the whip while The Contessa caressed Zagan’s cheek with the other. “I was not very happy with your behavior recently. I think you need to relearn how to obey. And my, how my underlings are excited. They have missed you too.”

  The Contessa’s razor-sharp nails were digging into Zagan’s skin leaving behind inky welts. “But now that we’re all here, I think it’s time to initiate your little princess. Shall we show her what our playthings can do?”

  She whipped her head towards the Umbra. “Strip her!” she commanded.

  Whatever she was doing to Zagan prevented him from making a sound, but I could see a roar become trapped in his throat. His entire body was shaking, spasming. It seemed as though his body wanted to expand, to grow larger. It also looked like shadows were trying to push their way out from his skin but were trapped. Every raw muscle flexed and bunched with the struggle.

  The Umbras’ claws slashed through my clothes with no regard for my skin. The shredded cloth fell away leaving me in only the panties I wore. Gashes marred my shoulders, chest, abdomen and thighs. Blood welled at the incisions and began to stream down my body as it mixed with the rain.

  The pain of the slashes in my skin was nothing. The true agony was the icy ache of dark evil that permeated my flesh from the Umbras’ claws. I shuddered, but I did not scream out. For Zagan’s sake I swallowed the wail my soul cried.

  However, it was no use. Because of the connection we had, I could not hide my experience from him. He knew the pain I felt, and anguish fell across his beautiful face. A bolt of angry red lightning struck the clearing.