When Shadows Call

by amanda bonilla

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Henry’s tone was laced with suspicion and I directed my eyes toward my soup.

  I racked my brain, trying to come up with a decent response. I didn’t want to give him a glimpse of my imaginings. God must have heard the frantic rhythm of my heart, however, and I was saved from any response when a knock came at our door. Henry eyed me with suspicion, and a scowl curved his lip. Without waiting for Mary to answer the door, he pushed his chair out from the table and marched out of the dining room. I couldn’t help but follow. My curiosity piqued, I came around the corner into the foyer, my husband using a hushed but urgent tone with whoever was on the other side of the door.

  “Darling,” He spun to face me as if startled. “I want you to meet a friend of mine.” I was just as shaken as Henry was by the stranger at our door. But he had years of practice in hiding his true emotions and could put up a façade of grace and charm when the situation demanded it. And his new friend’s unexpected visit required all of that and more. “Azriel,”––he cleared his throat as if preparing to force the next words from his mouth––“my wife, Darian Charles.”

  I’d been right about my husband’s mood. No doubt Henry fell instantly in love with this man. Azriel was something to behold; dark hair that brushed his forehead, dark brown eyes, almost black—beautiful, despite their cruel edge. I could easily picture his russet skin glowing in the firelight. My breath caught at the sight of him. He reminded me of a Roman god, a statue of male perfection carved from the hardest, smoothest marble. I blinked once, twice, and again as I took him in. The light in the room seemed to bend around him, blurring at the edges as if he were less than solid. But just as soon as I noticed the illusion, it slipped away and I wondered if my brain had at last become addled from the constant blows I took to the head.

  “Mrs. Charles,” he said, bending over my hand. “I’m so very pleased to meet you.”

  The touch of his lips on my skin sent a river of chills flowing across the landscape of my body. My pulse thundered in my ears and my entire body tingled at the sound of his rich voice. “Will you join us for dinner?” I asked. He was a godsend. Henry would be so pleased to have him join us, and so distracted, he would have no need to bother with me.

  Azriel stood, his eyes roaming over what I hoped he couldn’t see: traces of yellowing bruises that had not quite healed. I didn’t want him to see the physical proof of my weakness. But I could tell from the shrewd look in his black eyes that he saw the truth of my life, and his pained expression instantly tore at my heart. “I’d love to join you for dinner,” he said. His fingers lingered on my palm as he pulled away and my heart beat triple time with excitement. “Henry, let’s sit with your beautiful wife and enjoy her company while we eat.”

  A feeling of elation bubbled up through my chest and I spun on a heel, the silk whispering as my long skirt swirled around me. “Mary!” I called out. “Mary, can you set another place at the table please?”

  As I walked toward the dining room, my skin prickled with anticipation. Azriel trailed behind with Henry, but I knew with certainty that his gaze was focused on me. I could feel the weight of his stare in every nerve ending. My cheeks warmed at the thought and I almost faltered in my step as a similar heat spread from my belly, lower.

  Men had looked at me with interest before. I’d been courted by others before Henry, and though most of the matches never worked out—that being, my sharp tongue seemed to get in the way—I wasn’t naïve to the heat in a man’s eyes when he sees something he likes. But I’d never felt that heat like I did now. It had never reached out to caress me in such a way. Henry had curbed the sharpness of my tongue with the back of his hand. And he’d broken my spirited nature with every swing of his fist. But as I thought of this man—Azriel—observing the sway of my hips as I walked in front of him, I felt some of that long-lost spirit return.

  We entered the dining room and Azriel hastened his step to catch me before I took my seat. “Allow me,” he said, and pulled out my chair.

  A riot of butterflies swirled in my stomach as if taking to flight. His arm grazed my shoulder as he pushed in my chair, and I had to suppress the contented sigh that threatened to pass my lips. I could see how Henry would become instantly infatuated with him. In fact, I was afraid that finally, my husband and I had something in common.

  Chapter 2

  Dinner ended too soon. Much too soon.

  The conversation had been stimulating and the company, divine. Azriel hung on my every word, treating me as though there was no single person in the world more important to him than me. Henry interjected to the point of rudeness, vying for our guest’s attention like a spoiled child. Azriel humored him now and again, but I must admit, I wondered at his attentiveness. After all, he was Henry’s friend, not mine. And from the way his dark eyes drank me in, I knew that their relationship had not been a romantic one. When he kissed my hand one last time and took his leave, I felt as if a piece of my soul left with him.

  “You’re awfully smug this evening,” Henry grumbled from his wingchair. He was working on his fifth Brandy of the night and staring pensively at the fire burning in the brick fireplace.

  “I’m sorry, Henry,” I said, glancing up from the book I’d been pretending to read, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “You know damn well what I mean,” he scoffed. “Your brazen behavior was shameful this evening. What would people say if they knew how you’d practically thrown yourself at our guest?”

  So, my husband was jealous. I buried my face in the pages of my book and smiled secretly to myself. As I replayed the evening over and again in my mind, I could hardly blame him; my own affection for our guest had blossomed, and the emotions hit me hard and fast.

  “Azriel wasn’t truly interested in you, you know.” Henry tossed back his drink and rose to pour another. He leaned his elbow against the mantle and kicked a polished shoe at the hearth before downing his fresh drink in a single swallow. “He was simply playing a game, keeping up appearances for the benefit of our staff.”

  I supposed if that’s what Henry wanted to believe, who was I to contradict him? But obviously Henry had failed to gaze into Azriel’s fathomless black eyes. One look would have told him the truth, and perhaps Henry didn’t dare to look because he couldn’t handle the reality: Azriel had no interest in him. “Yes, Henry,” I said. Unless I wanted to end the evening on a violent note, I couldn’t argue with him.

  “You’re disgusted by me, aren’t you?” The question startled me and I dropped the book in my lap to stare at him. Henry marched to the bar and poured himself another drink, the dark amber liquid sloshing over the rim of the glass as he poured. “You consider me a sinner, and you think I’m going to burn in the eternal fires of hell, don’t you?”

  Brandy dripped from his chin and ran in rivulets from either side of his mouth as he drank. My heart began to pound in my chest, and my stomach tightened into a knot. Rather than drink himself into a stupor, the liquor was only helping to fan the flames of his anger. In the five years we’d been married, Henry never mentioned his choice in lovers to me, nor his supposition of my opinion on the matter. “You do not know my mind, Henry,” I softened my tone so as to soothe his temper. I had no reason to lie to him, and though I knew that compassion on my part would earn no kindness from him in return, I felt that I needed to tell him how I felt. “There is certainly not enough love in this cruel world,” I said. “I don’t begrudge you nor would I condemn you for the choices you make. And neither do I believe that God would damn you for it.” There were members of the Ladies’ Auxiliary who’d faint dead away at my words, but they were spoken with nothing but truth. It mattered little to me if Henry loved women or men. It only saddened me that I took the brunt of his anger at the people in our world who did not share my opinion on the matter.

  Henry drained the decanter of brandy into his glass.
He swirled the liquid, gazing over the rim as if reading tea leaves at the bottom of a cup. He pulled back his arm and, with a shout, hurled the glass into the fire. An explosion of flame burst out from the brick, catapulting shards of glass into the parlor. I shielded my face with my arms and stood, prepared to run at any moment. My husband’s chest heaved, and with each of his labored breaths, the fire dwindled until naught was left but smoldering embers.

  Henry turned on me, crossing the distance between us in three quick strides. Frozen in place by crippling fear, I cringed away from him, closing my eyes as I braced myself for the blow that would most assuredly come. Henry wrapped one arm around my narrow waist and dragged me hard against him. My eyes opened wide in surprise as much as alarm and he captured my face with his free hand, digging his fingers cruelly into my still-tender skin. “Even bruised, you’re lovely,” he said from between clenched teeth. He laughed as my eyes betrayed my surprise. “What? Just because I’m not interested in taking you to my bed does not mean that I’m blind.” He squeezed my face hard and my teeth bit into the inside of my cheeks. I tasted blood and fought the urge to gag. “But lovely or not, I don’t want you. I’ve never wanted you, and I hate you for that.”

  “Henry, please,” I whimpered, but the words came distorted through my mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for tonight. I’ll never do it again. Please. Please, don’t hurt me.”

  He let go of my face and dragged his hand down my throat to the bodice of my gown. “Did you imagine him touching you?” Henry swayed on his feet, so drunk he could barely stand, let alone hold on to me. “Did you wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on your breasts? His mouth tasting your virginal skin? Tell me, Darian, would you like to lie naked with Azriel?” The words tore from his mouth in a snarl. “Answer me!” Henry fisted the delicate fabric of my dress and I heard it tear as he gave me a rough shake. “Answer me, damn you! Do you want him inside you?”

  “Yes!” I screamed, putting my face as close to Henry’s as I dared. Rage bubbled up in me, my skin burning with the intensity of it. “Is that what you want to hear? I want him! I want his hands, his lips, his naked body on mine! You don’t want me and I don’t care that you don’t want me. But I deserve to be wanted by someone, by God!” Never had I spoken my mind like that with him. I felt as though I stood outside of my body, watching as another woman took my place and spoke the words I longed to say. But, dear lord, what consequences would my actions bring?

  “Why did he have to come here tonight?” Henry’s voice grew weak, almost a sob. His grip on me loosened and I took a cautious step back. The heel of my shoe caught in my slip, tearing into the fabric,. If I ran, I’d surely fall. I was trapped in place by my own feminine undergarments. The embarrassment was almost too much to bear. “I’ve never desired anything—anyone—as much as him.” Tears streamed down Henry’s face and his lip curled in a vicious snarl. “And he wants you.”

  I tried to take another step back, but I was too tangled in my dress to move. “Henry, you said yourself, it was an act.” I had to placate him. Calm him down somehow. I tried to free my heel from the fabric, but it became more entangled the more I moved. “He didn’t want me. Not really.”

  “You stupid bitch!” Henry railed. “You just had to get in the way, didn’t you?”

  I managed to step out of my shoe, but I was too late. His fist landed squarely against my jaw, and the popping sound sickened me as I crashed into an end table and fell to the floor. The metallic tang of blood lay thick on my tongue, and a thick fog settled in my addled mind.

  “Henry, I—” Words stalled in my throat. My head felt too heavy for my neck to support. I’d wanted freedom from his abuse, even at the expense of my own life. So why couldn’t he just kill me and end my suffering once and for all?

  His boot made contact with my ribs and I heard more than felt the crack. I wanted to curl up in a ball, protect myself, but I didn’t have the strength for the simple act. The corset that bound my waist did nothing to protect my fragile body. In fact, it only served to limit my mobility. Any courage I’d felt dissolved into fear and white hot pain. My throat constricted and I couldn’t seem to draw enough air into my lungs.

  “Do you even think you’d be here if it wasn’t necessary?” A sob broke through his chest. “I hate you!” Henry’s fist came down, bashing my chin. Another pop, blood welling from my mouth. The smell of the blood made bile rise in my throat.

  Henry hauled me up by the collar of my dress and slapped me with his open palm. “He was for me!” he shouted. “You ruined everything!” He followed through with the back of his hand, striking my other cheek. “I should wring your scrawny, ungrateful neck!”

  I looked up at the panes of the French doors leading from the parlor to our garden and caught a reflection in the night-shrouded glass. I had to be dreaming. No, I was dying. I blinked the tears from my eyes in an effort to clear my blurred vision. I couldn’t be imagining the man standing just outside the door, one palm pressed against the glass. His expression spoke of death, and of retribution. The rage in his black eyes burned with the intensity of a million suns. Even as I fought for lucidity, his beauty took my breath away. His dark and lovely form slid through the solid structure as if the doors hadn’t been there at all. An apparition, an angel come to take me to heaven.

  “Get off of her, you coward!” Azriel shouted, pulling Henry away from me. “You have no idea what you’re doing, who she really is!”

  Henry screamed in a maddened rage that quickly turned to a shriek of fear. I lay on the floor, bleeding, broken, silently begging for death to finally claim me. The sound of a fist sinking into soft flesh made me flinch, and I tried once again to pull my body into a tight ball to protect myself. Another blow followed the first, and it wasn’t until I heard Henry shout in pain that I realized the beating had not been meant for me. “Why?” Henry cried, before he gasped for breath. “Please!” he begged through wracking sobs. “Stop!”

  “Did you stop when she begged you?” my angel demanded. “Did you show her mercy?” Henry grunted in pain and cried in earnest, no longer able to even feign strength. “I’m going to kill you.” My savior’s voice was flat, calm, and full of promise. “You won’t lay a hand to her ever again.” I held on to consciousness for as long as I could, but peaceful oblivion called. The darkness that I loved so much descended on me, and I welcomed its embrace.

  Sometime later, as I floated between the lands of the dead and the living, I realized I could no longer hear Henry’s terrified screams. My body shifted as strong arms encircled me. I wanted to cry out from the pain but my mouth refused to work. Agony tore at me, building and festering to an almost inconceivable level. I felt as though tiny tendrils of shadow had crawled beneath my flesh to wrap themselves tightly around my bones. Inch by inch, inky blackness laid claim to my body, joining with my soul to forever change me. Was this what it felt like to die? I’d expected to see the shining light of heaven stretched out infinitely before me, but instead, I was welcomed by darkness. Eternal night and twinkling stars. God had no place for me in heaven. I’d been claimed by the shadows.

  The pain subsided by small degrees as I was lifted from the floor. Like the night I’d submerged myself in the steaming copper bathtub, my body tingled with heat. Someone carried me up the stairs, jostling me with each step. I didn’t dare open my eyes, but in my mind I saw him: dark and beautiful and strong. He pulled me close to his chest, and for the first time in many years, I felt safe. I felt . . . at peace. A door creaked as he pushed it open, and he took great care to shuffle around any obstacles in his path. My rescuer lowered me to the downy softness I recognized as my bed, and Azriel’s beautiful voice whispered in my ear, “You’re mine now.”

  Mine.

  * * *

  I floated in darkness, held secure as if wrapped in a cocoon. Something surrounded my body, encased it. Soft as silk and warm. It flowed over my skin
, twining and reaching around my limbs until every inch of me was covered. Bliss. My eyelids fluttered as I came closer to wakefulness, but I fought against opening my eyes. I wanted to stay here in this shadowy realm where nothing could touch me.

  As if swimming to the surface from the murky depths of the ocean, my mind floated closer to awareness. I pushed all physical sensation aside and followed the path of conscious thought, searching through the dark for a clue, some memory to help connect me to the moment. I flinched, an act so involuntary I couldn’t control it. Henry’s fist smashed into my face. I drew my knees up to protect my ribs as he kicked me. Tears squeezed through the lids of my eyes and ran down my cheeks. The memory was still so fresh in my mind, the images flashing like lightning against a navy blue sky.

  My heart slammed into my ribcage, the panic welling up to the point that I thought it would explode right out of me. But then the blissful sensations of silky shadows caressed my skin. Dancing around me like graceful serpents, they sensed my fear and cradled me in their warm embrace. Inch by inch, I relaxed and my body uncoiled itself. Even my fingers—clenched into fists—uncurled and came to rest.

  Dare I open my eyes? Yes, something deep inside of me responded, an urging I couldn’t resist. There is nothing to fear. But whether or not fear had a place in my life anymore, I knew Henry had beaten me nearly to death. I searched back, grasping onto a sliver of memory. How had I survived his wrath? I remembered lying on the floor, unable to shield myself from his heavy-handed blows as I prayed for death. And something else. . . . A man. A vengeful angel gliding through the glass doors of the parlor to rescue me. “Azriel.” His name escaped my parted lips in a whisper. I didn’t bother peeking through lowered lashes. Nor did I take the cautious route by opening only one eye to steal a glance. I had to know if he’d really saved me or if it had all been a cruel dream. A deep breath held in my chest was all the preparation I needed, and when I exhaled, I opened both of my eyes wide.