Remnants: A dark urban fantasy (Shifter Chronicles Book 2)

by Melle Amade

  I’ve started thinking of it like that book said. Like a disease.

  Zan and Roman are weary, too. They picked me up early and we joined Zaragoza back in the library. We’re all working for the same goal. Trying to figure out how to bind the raven to me.

  But we’re running out of time.

  While my friends know almost everything, I didn’t tell them I woke up with dried blood all over my lacerated legs. That shifting last night wasn’t as effortless as it appeared. My legs healed by the time I woke up, but I’m terrified to shift again.

  I rest my head in my hands.

  “It’s okay,” Zan says. “We’re going to solve this.”

  “Really? You think so?” I ask. “Because from where I’m sitting it’s not looking real good.”

  “Not with that attitude,” Roman says, adding a book to the ‘useless’ pile.

  I glare at him. “You’re not the one who bleeds when you shift.”

  “Hey now,” Roman says. “Don’t give me that hater look.”

  “I’ve seen that look before.” Zan tries to lighten the mood. “She’s just hungry.”

  Even as she speaks my stomach grumbles. They know me too well.

  “You’re right,” I say my shoulder sag. “I just- There’s also this interview with El Oso.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Roman says. “Callum said it’s pretty straight forward. They want to just ask questions about the revolt.”

  “And why I tried to attack him last night.” I shudder. How close was I to losing it that I nearly sunk my talons into El Oso’s face? As much as it might be good for the Order to get rid of him, it wouldn’t have boded well for me.

  “We’ll keep searching,” Zaragoza says. His small glasses rest on the tip of his nose and he’s hunched over a book flipping through the pages.

  “We’ll go grab some food from the kitchen and bring it back,” Zan says. “That’ll help.”

  “I can go with you,” I say rubbing my weary eyes.

  “Probably not a good idea.” Zaragoza motions Zan and Roman out of the room.

  “Right,” I say. “Berzerkens. Everywhere.”

  “It’s not the Berzerkens I’m actually worried about,” Zaragoza says. “They’re all brawn and stupidity. Lady Heather has real power.”

  “She’s a prisoner. Why are you worried about her?”

  “There are two reasons to worry about someone in life.” Zaragoza turns another page of the book in front of him as he scans the text. “The first is that they want freedom and would do anything to get it. And the second is that they have nothing to lose. Lady Heather has both conditions.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” I ask.

  “There’s a reason she wears that collar,” Zaragoza says.

  “So she can’t shift.”

  “It’s not just that,” he says. “Shae, have you ever wondered how we shift?”

  “I’ve been struggling with that exact thing for the last month,” I mutter.

  “That is not what I mean,” Zaragoza says. “Do you ever wonder what power it is that makes us shift?”

  The truth is no, I hadn’t thought about it. I shake my head.

  “For lack of a better word, let us call it magic. But the magic we use is more powerful than shifters understand. In many ways, we are like humans we are given great gifts and great power, but nobody really knows how to use it.”

  “Not even you?” I say doubtfully. “Haven’t you managed to stay alive five hundred years?”

  “That’s not true magic,” Zaragoza says. “Everything I do, even bringing out the magic in you, is inherently biology bound or unbound by a few spells. The spell we’re looking for right now is simply to balance out the power inside you. It’s trying to bring up the Raven and control the dove so your body knows what’s dominant.”

  “Okay,” I say. “But what does any of this have to do with Lady Heather’s collar?

  “El Oso is also looking for magic,” Zaragoza says. “Deep magic. He believes in the untapped abilities of shifters and he wants to find it. You may have heard rumors of El Oso’s great quest.”

  “Not quite like that,” I say.

  “His quest is for something that will grow shifter magic, make everyone as powerful as Lord Van Arend. The rumors are that he found something when he first came to control Muiderkring East and West.”

  “And Lady Heather had something to do with it?”

  “El Oso discovered that Lady Heather was born with very great magic. There’s a reason certain families have become lords,” Zaragoza says.

  “Their families have magic?” I ask. “Like Lord Van Arend can make rain?”

  “Exactly. Lady Heather’s family, the Kusamas, also have power.”

  “What kind?”

  “I was not sure before. Only rumors of rumors come out of the Berzerken clan,” Zaragoza says. “But by not letting her shift, the collar focuses all her power into her brain and it gives her ability to see beyond what is apparent. That is why El Oso keeps her collar on. It aids his quest.”

  “So I was right when I thought she was scanning people.”

  “Yes.” Zaragoza says. “This is why I am warning you. She can see that you are a nuvervel.”

  “Even if we do the binding spell?”

  “Yes,” Zaragoza nods.

  “And she would try to use that information to get herself free of El Oso.” I draw the conclusion for myself.

  “Or to manipulate you in some way,” Zaragoza says.

  This interview is going to be a disaster. I watch the late afternoon sun strike through the window and shine down on the books on the table. The book Zaragoza scans is open and the pages that face me create a gentle slope of gilded paper. The way the sun hits it, almost looks like there’s blood on it.

  “What’s that?” I ask. “Is there blood on that book?” I press my fingers against my eyes. I’m tired, maybe I’m seeing all this wrong.

  Zaragoza frowns and looks down of the pages shaking his head. “I don’t see anything,” he says.

  “Not on the face of the page.” I move closer to him and point out the edge of the pages where they cascade down in a gentle slope. As I move my position I can see something. “There,” I say. “A picture of some sort. Look.”

  Zaragoza moves so he’s standing right next to me and can see the book at the same angle that I can. His already small eyes squint so they are almost invisible.

  “Yes,” he murmurs as he reaches forward with a gloved finger and runs it along the edge of the book. “The pages, when all together, show a picture.” He flips more of the pages over so they’re all together and we see a delicate image painted on the edges of the book. It’s a raven and a fox twisting around each other with land below and sky above. Archaic writing encircles the drawing and symbols fill the edges.

  “What does it say?” I murmur.

  Zaragoza’s finger trails along the letters. “A talented tongue, though office low, may oft dupe the preening crow.”

  “A poem?” I’m ready to write it off. But Zaragoza is still studying it, his eyes moving along each symbol.

  “Spells are often written in poems to make them easier to remember,” he mutters. “Though, I’m not sure what this one is.”

  “Shae, it’s time,” Callum pokes his head in the door. I swallow. In the last few moments I completely forgot about my formal meeting with the Order. Almost.

  “Already?” I ask as I walk reluctantly towards him.

  “Shae.” Zaragoza’s voice stops me. He has an uncharacteristic smile on his face. “I think you might have discovered something. If this one isn’t the right one, now we know how to look for the spell.”

  For the first time in days a burden rises from my chest. “Really?” I ask.

  “Go,” Zaragoza motions me out the door. “I need to dig into this.”

  “Don’t sweat it so much,” Callum says as we enter the hallway. “You’re the last one they want to talk to. It only takes a few
moments. El Oso is on a fact-finding mission about Murtagh’s Revolt. He’s just going to ask a few questions.”

  My fingernails click together. “They’re not going to ask me to shift, are they?”

  “No,” Callum says. “But don’t be defiant.”

  “Why would you even think I would be?” I glower up at him. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “I didn’t mean– I just– You can be hotheaded,” Callum says. “This isn’t the time to be that.”

  “I’m a raven. It’s not my fault.”

  “You can play that card, if you want,” Callum says, “but the Order demands obedience.”

  “Fine.” I breathe in deeply and look away. There’s no point in arguing with Callum. It’s not him who’s bugging me. El Oso freaks me out. Waiting in silence isn’t helping. “What are they going to ask me?”

  “Whatever they want to,” Callum says.

  “That’s helpful.”

  “We’ve been over this for days.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Just stick to the story, Shae. They’re just trying to make sure all the stories match. They’ve already gotten statements from Aiden and myself, and a few other people. So, you just have to stick to the story.”

  “Are you sure they’re not going to–”

  Cold air wafts over us as Balthazar pushes open the door to the drawing room and steps into the hallway. “They are ready to see you now, miss.” He nods towards me.

  “It would be unusual,” Callum murmurs to me.

  “That’s not reassuring,” I whisper, clenching my hands to stop the clicking of my nails as I step towards the door. I glance back. “Aren’t you coming with me?” I ask Callum.

  “Not allowed.” He shakes his head. “They want to speak to you on your own.”

  I nod slowly, my gaze trailing away from his as I turn toward Balthazar. “Let’s do this,” I murmur and step into the library.

  El Oso’s huge frame dwarfs one of the brown leather couches. Behind him stand Patch and Polaris, their faces set in permanent scowls. Though they lean casually against the bulky, antique furniture, they are anything but relaxed. Eyes half lidded, upper lips slightly curled. Patch drums his fingers softly on the ancient polished oak, but the room is so quiet, the sound carries like a distant heartbeat through the entire room.

  “What is your name?” Lady Heather’s voice, melodic and floating, draws my attention. She sits perched on a red velvet chair, its intricate, flourished, wooden frame shining in painted gold. It matches the glint of the thick gold rings on her fingers and choker that encircles her neck. The choker is striking, but it steals her power to shift and makes her a slave to El Oso. I don’t care what they say about fostering. She’s a prisoner. Gold bracelets, like gilded manacles, clank against her wrists as she grips the arm rest.

  “Please state your name?” Lady Heather’s smooth tone carries an undercurrent of sharpness as if she might be speaking to someone who isn’t paying attention. My gaze flies inadvertently between Lady Heather and El Oso. I’m pretty sure they know who I am. El Oso looks like he might be sleeping.

  “Shae,” I say.

  “Your full name.” Lady Heather’s foot taps lightly on the floor, adding to the distant drumming of Patch’s fingers. We’re both probably thinking the same thing. This is going to be a long interview.

  “Shae Bradfield,” I say.

  “Thank you, Shae.” Lady Heather’s smile. It’s anything but friendly. “I understand you were raised in Topanga, and you were raised with the Heir, the young Ridder, and the other Muiderkring youth here. But you were not raised as a shifter.”

  I’m not sure what to say, so I just give a slight nod.

  “How is it you did not know of your heritage?”

  “I was never told of it,” I say.

  “How is that possible?” She leans in.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “How did you discover it?” Lady Heather asks.

  “I– I–” Even though we’ve discussed this and there are answers I’m supposed to say, the distant heartbeat of Patch’s drumming fingers is like Chinese water torture on my nerves. I can’t remember how much I’m supposed to say about Zaragoza conducting the ceremony, or me asking for it, or Murtagh threatening my family.

  “Don’t tell me you can’t remember,” Lady Heather says.

  “I do remember.” I close my eyes and take a slow, deep breath. “The coyotes were checking the genealogy of the local shifters, and I was exhibiting some of the…symptoms?” I’m not sure if this is what it’s supposed to be called.

  She waves a gold weighted finger in the air for me to continue.

  “And so then—”

  “Enough.” El Oso’s eyes open, and he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “It’s a rehearsed story. They all have the same story. This is a waste of time.”

  Lady Heather nods and as she drops her chin, her hand flicks up to pull a long gold needle out of her hair. Not a platinum blonde hair falls out of place as she slides the needle between her thumb and index finger. “I’ll get her to tell the truth.”

  “Put it away.” El Oso waves a colossal hand at Lady Heather. “These questions bore me. She’s not the one I want. You can smell it as easily as I can.”

  I breathe in sharply though my nose, but I have no idea what they are smelling. Lady Heather glares at El Oso.

  “Well, no, but she might know something about the ch-”

  “No.” El Oso cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “Murtagh’s an idiot. There’s nothing here.”

  El Oso stands up, the couch creaking and sighing as his massive frame lifts. “Welcome to the Ravensgaard,” he says. “We will see you display at the Presentation.”

  My gaze darts to Lady Heather, who is still stroking the foot-long gold needle like it’s a great pity to put it away. But El Oso is already out the door, Patch and Polaris right behind him. I raise myself to my feet. There is nothing I want more than to leave this room. I don’t wait for Lady Heather’s permission she’s controlled by El Oso as much as the rest of us.

  I walk cautiously but with determination to the door, Lady Heather’s black eyes piercing my back. Just as I grab the door handle, there’s a soft whiz through the air, right past my ear, and the needle lodges itself in the door next to my head.

  My hand tremors, but I stiffen so it doesn’t show. I stare at the gold needle, sunk deep in the door.

  “In Java, there is a tree that grew in the heart of my village.” Her voice holds me in place. “It’s tiny triangular leaves were blood red and never fell, that stayed strong, adhered to the trunk. Everyone hated that tree because it was frightening. At night it looked like a demon rising out of the ground and it frightened full-grown men and children alike. But no one dared cut it down. It had lived for as long as anyone could remember, even the eldest of the old. We expected to live until the dust turned to dust. Then one day a black flower bloomed on the tree. Just a small thing, but we all noticed it. It bloomed for one afternoon and died, we all stood and watched the petals fall to the earth. But it left something in the tree and the next morning, the blood red leaves were all gone. The little black flower had been full of poison. And the poison that remained in the tree killed the branches, the trunk, and the roots. The little poison flower killed the massive tree.”

  Ice crackles across my shoulders. I may not know the laws of the shifters very well, but I know when I’m being bullied. My fingers slip off the handle as I turn to face her.

  “I’m not poison,” I say.

  “You misunderstand, fledgling,” she says. “My people rejoiced the tree was dead.”

  “Maybe they should have cut it down themselves. Used it for firewood.”

  “I know what you are,” Lady Heather murmurs and smiles. “El Oso is old and fat. His senses are waning, but I can smell you.”

  Frozen shards move down my torso and into my legs as I walk across the room. She stands to meet me.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” I
say right to her face because that’s the best way to deliver a lie.

  “You shouldn’t be, nuvervel,” she growls. “You should be afraid of the two beasts inside you that will kill you.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  I get a little thrill when I see the shock on her face. She recovers herself. “That may be true.” She shrugs. “But it doesn’t change what you are.”

  I think she’s about to leave, but her arm sweeps up as she twists her body sharply and then…she’s gone!

  I back up, quickly looking around the room to see if she’s shifted, but if she did, I didn’t see it. She just disappeared. She’s nowhere in the room. My legs waver, and I sit down in the red velvet chair where Lady Heather had just been sitting.

  There’s more magic in the shifter world than I realized and if I don’t use some of it soon to bind the raven, one way or another, it’s going to kill me.

  Zan is waiting for me outside the door. “Did he find it?” I whisper. “Yes!” Her voice is a hiss that echoes up the hallway as we race to the library. I don’t even notice the stench of boiled cabbage anymore. Zaragoza is there, hunched over a book and making notes on a small pad.

  “Was it the one I found?” I ask, but I can see he’s looking at a different one. The original one Zan found with the drawing of the nuvervel dying.

  “No,” he says. “But this is it.” His hands are shaking and I think of his adopted daughter. How much he must wish he would have had this spell then. I place my hand gently on his arm.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, even though it’s not enough.

  His gaze looks up at me, watery but firm. “Let’s just see if it works. Can you shift in here?”

  I glance at the high ceilings and give a brief nod of my head. “Yeah.” To do this binding spell, I’d shift in a box. This is going to save my life.