Shaded Vision: An Otherworld Novel

by Galenorn, Yasmine

  This was no simple torch or match—magical firebombs were made to catch hold and burn. Water wouldn’t always put out the flames. And when they licked against the skin, they stuck, eating away at the flesh.

  A cloud of hot smoke billowed around us, so thick it was hard to see. I began to cough as the haze surrounded us. Shade tightened his grip as I stumbled, pulling me back to my feet. I couldn’t see anything. Not the turns, not the shelves, not the crates scattered on the floor. I tripped over something and went down again, my knees landing hard on a metal box. It felt like an army trunk. But Shade never let go; he just pulled me to my feet again, and I skirted the trunk.

  The flames were licking the basement walls now, crackling as they caught purchase. Somewhere in the mess, a bottle exploded and a rush of fire and heat swelled up, along with the smell of ammonia. Hell! Wilbur probably stored his spell components down here, and no doubt a number of them were flammable.

  My eyes were burning and I couldn’t stop coughing as Shade rumbled, “Stairs. Watch your feet.”

  I gently kicked forward and my toes met the first stair. I felt with my foot and got my bearings. Then, with one hand on the railing and Shade still firmly gripping the other, I struggled up the stairs.

  As we stumbled into the kitchen, I saw that the back door was open and headed for it, with smoke spewing out of the basement stairwell behind me. From the kitchen, I could see that Camille was standing outside, along with Martin, whom she’d managed to persuade to come with her. Wilbur was lying on the grass. Morio and Rozurial were running around from out front.

  Smoky headed past me, back toward the basement. “I’ll be back in a moment. I might be able to quell the flames.” He passed Menolly on the stairs as she came racing up them. She was covered with soot, but she held something in her hands.

  “What’s that?” I headed down the back steps, with her following me.

  “I don’t know, but it was sitting near Wilbur and at one point, he pointed to it. I thought I’d bring it up, just in case it’s important.” We stopped beside Camille, who was closing her cell phone.

  “Sharah’s almost here. And I called the fire department. If Smoky can quell the worst of the flames, the firemen might be able to take care of the rest when they get here.” She frowned. “Wilbur is unconscious, but he’s still breathing. He’s been hurt pretty bad.” She knelt beside him in the mud and wet grass and wiped his forehead. “I need a blanket to cover him with.”

  Shade nodded. “I’ll be right back.” He headed for the house, and my first instinct was to say, “No, don’t go,” but then I realized he had the best chance of making it in and out of there without any repercussions.

  As we waited, there was another explosion and all the windows on the left side of the house blew as flames billowed out, engulfing the entire length of the walls. Camille gave a little cry and moved forward, but I stopped her.

  “They’ll be okay. You know they’ll be okay.” I was scared, too, but we didn’t dare go into the tangle of burning timbers and broken glass.

  She bit her lip, nodding. “I hope so. I don’t trust anything, anymore.”

  “Not even the Moon Mother?” I tried to cadge a smile out of her as we waited for our men to emerge from the flames.

  She gave me a pensive look. “I trust her to do what she can. But I learned the hard way that even she can’t control the world, and can’t always stop evil when it rises. But she can comfort. The gods are not omnipotent nor omniscient.”

  We waited—watching, hoping—until a movement at the kitchen door proved the answer to our prayers. Smoky and Shade emerged, both looking a little worse for wear. Camille jumped up and ran over to Smoky’s side while I stayed with Wilbur. She wrapped her arms around his waist as they walked back to us. Shade crouched beside me, staring down at the necromancer.

  “How is he?”

  “Not good, but Sharah should be here any minute. Is the house a goner?”

  Smoky let out a sigh. “I don’t know, but even when I breathed an ice storm on it, the flames merely flickered. I think Wilbur’s house is doomed.”

  Just then, the medic unit pulled up, siren screaming, and Sharah slammed open the door, heading toward us on the run. She glanced at the house. “You call the fire department?”

  “Yeah, but what we need is someone who can counter sorcery. Shamas! He might be able to stop the flames!” Camille turned to Menolly. “Run home, as fast as you can, and get him.”

  Menolly took off without a word.

  Meanwhile, Sharah was examining Wilbur. She motioned to her assistants. “We need a stretcher here. Get his blood typed; he’s lost quite a bit and is in shock. His arm and leg are mangled—I suspect his leg is crushed, and his arm is broken in several places. He may have a skull fracture by the looks of things. He’s dehydrated and I doubt if he’s eaten in several days. I’m surprised he’s not dead.”

  “Martin was trying to feed him, I think. We found plates of food down there. How long do you think he’s been hurt?”

  She looked over at me as she started an IV drip of some clear liquid into his unhurt arm. “Several days at least. He lost a lot of weight due to dehydration. Okay, once he’s stabilized let’s get him back to the hospital.” She gathered up her stuff. “He must have the stamina of an elephant, to last through the beating he took. What happened to him?”

  I shook my head as Menolly returned, Shamas on her heels. He headed toward the building, stopping just below the back porch steps. Camille and Morio followed him.

  “I don’t know. We came over here, expecting to have it out with him, but Martin dragged us to the basement, where we found Wilbur. While we were down there, a Tregart and two zombies appeared through some sort of portal. The zombies attacked me while the Tregart let loose a firebomb.”

  Sharah pressed her lips together. She gave me a wan smile and headed toward the ambulance. I crossed my arms in the chill night as a boiling cloud bank drove in around us. Unnatural and growing darker, it seethed with energy and I glanced over to see Shamas, his arms raised to the sky, with Camille and Morio beside him, hands linked, heads tilted back. I wasn’t sure how, or in what way, but they were all working together.

  A tremendous crash broke through the night and rain pounded down, so hard it hurt against my skin. Hail quickly followed, as thick as snow, and I dodged the pellets, taking cover beneath a nearby tree with Shade and Smoky. Menolly was watching over Martin, and even though he seemed afraid of her, he obeyed when she made him move beneath the overhanging boughs.

  So Shamas could work with the weather? Camille could call the lightning, and Iris and Smoky were adept at frost magic, but working with active weather systems was dangerous. Even I knew that.

  But sorcerers liked to control as much as they could of the world. They had no compunctions about summoning beings to do their bidding. But right now, I didn’t care, because Shamas’s rain and hail were drenching the flames. The water must have been charmed for it to quell the magical fires so quickly.

  Whatever the case, as we watched, the flames died down, and within five minutes they were extinguished and the house sat, smoldering, a third of it in ruins. But at least it wasn’t burned to the ground.

  I looked at Martin. “What the hell are we going to do with him? We can’t take him home like a puppy dog.”

  Menolly groaned. “Oh fuck. Maybe we could tell Wilbur he burned up in the fire and put the guy out of our misery?”

  Camille cleared her throat. “As much as I’d like to de-animate Martin, we can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair. Not unless Wilbur dies. If that happens, then yes, we go ahead and put Martin to rest. But for now, until we know the truth, we owe it to Wilbur to keep his…pet…alive.”

  I stared bleakly at the house. “Just what do you suggest we do with him, then? It’s not like we can chain him up outside on a leash. Can we?” A hopeful note crept into my voice. After all, I was the optimist of the group.

  Smoky let out a snort. “I cannot believe
you women are debating what to do with the creature. I think he should be destroyed, but I can tell you aren’t going to allow that. Therefore, it stands to reason that we need to lock him up somewhere. I suggest we store him in the safe room down at the Wayfarer.” He turned to Menolly. “What say you?”

  She groaned and face-palmed. “Oh geez, do we have to? I mean, Erin’s living at Vampires Anonymous now, so it’s empty, but really, I don’t want a ghoul in my bar.”

  “He won’t be able to get out,” I said, eager to have him anywhere but at our house. “He doesn’t need food or to go to the bathroom.”

  “He doesn’t need food? Of course he does. Ghouls need flesh to feed on. If you think I’m cooking him a steak to keep him from taking a bite out of one of my customers…” Menolly stopped, grimacing. She looked from Smoky to me, then to Camille. “I see you have your minds made up. Fine. But I’m not taking him in my Jag. Somebody else has to take him down.”

  Morio snickered. “We could put Rodney in there with him. Maybe they’d kill each other off.” Rodney was a twelve-inch-tall bone golem who could grow to life size. He could have been the love child of Rodney Dangerfield and Howard Stern…only worse.

  “Oh gods, I can’t imagine that. I wish Grandmother Coyote would take him back. I suppose we should make more use of him, but I hate taking him out of the box, the little freak. I wish we could just bury him and leave him there.” Camille shuddered. She hated Rodney. So did I. So did Menolly.

  “He’s supposed to obey me, but sometimes I worry that he’s on the verge of being able to break through my control.” Morio stood up and motioned to Martin. “Come on, you freakshow. Let’s get you somewhere safe until your daddy is out of the hospital.”

  I stared at him, stifling a laugh. Camille rolled her eyes, and Menolly snorted. Smoky eyed Martin, frowning.

  “I suggest Shade take him down to the Wayfarer. Menolly, I can take you.”

  Shade swiveled around on his heel. “Me? Why me? Why not you?”

  Smoky shrugged, a half grin on his face. “You are from the Netherworld. Ghouls are undead. It makes sense.” He stood back, pushing back his trench and sliding his hands into his pockets. His hair whipped around, almost dancing.

  “I see.” Shade’s lip quivered, and the two dragons locked gazes. Shade was older than Smoky, but he was only half dragon, and that made a difference. After a moment he let out a little huff, then laughed. “Fine, then. I will take the ghoul.”

  “Whoever takes the ghoul, fine, but if I’m going down there, we have to get moving. I need to get back before sunrise.” Menolly walked over to Smoky. He opened his trench and she slid her arm around his waist.

  Shade rolled his eyes. He strode over to Martin and, without ceremony, swept Martin under one arm. Martin stiffened, stared at him, sniffed, and then went limp. What the hell? Ghouls couldn’t go comatose. They might shut down and sit still for hours until ordered to do something, but there would still be an unearthly light in their eyes. But Martin—he looked like he’d fainted.

  With a laugh at our incredulity, Shade said, “I’m part Stradolan. I have many hidden talents.” And then, without another word, he vanished. Smoky followed, taking Menolly with him.

  Morio grabbed Camille to him and gave her a sound kiss. “Let’s get home, wife. This weather is abominable.”

  On the walk up the road to our driveway, Camille caught up to Shamas, who was walking a few yards ahead of us. She slid her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” I heard her say.

  “For what?” Shamas inclined his head, and his arm snaked around her waist. But his hand stayed well off her butt, which was a good thing by the look on Morio’s face as he watched.

  “For helping us. For putting out the fire on Wilbur’s house. Wilbur is a pain in the ass, but he’s helped us in the past. I don’t believe he betrayed us. At least…I hope he didn’t.” She hung her head.

  Shamas reached down and kissed her hair. Then, with a glance over his shoulder at Morio and me, he gently disentangled himself from her, pulling back.

  “It’s okay. I understand why you were angry at me. I just hope…that at some point you can forgive me and accept that I only want to help you. And…Delilah and Menolly, too. I’ve got a lot to learn, still, but I’m trying.” He touched her hand, then turned around and walked up to me.

  I stared at him, still not particularly impressed. “Yes?”

  “I want to apologize. I want to say I’m sorry to you and Menolly for not treating you better when we were kids. For not…treating you properly. I’ll try to do better.” He held out his hand.

  I looked into his eyes and, for the first time, saw a genuine warmth sparkling there—for someone other than Camille. I worried my lip—which hurt because one of my nonretractable fangs pierced the flesh.

  “Okay. I believe you. You were a real snot-nosed ass, but…I really think you have changed. I accept your apology.” As I took his hand, I pulled him toward me and he awkwardly gave me a hug. As I wrapped my arms around him, I whispered, low enough so that Camille couldn’t hear, “Thanks.”

  “Thanks for what? I’m just doing what’s right. What I should have done years ago.” He tilted his head back, grinning up at me. He looked so much like my sister. And our father.

  “For caring about Camille. Losing Father’s support has hurt her in so many ways. You…I think you can help negate some of those feelings. So thank you for caring for her. But, Shamas, I know you still have feelings for her. And trust me, it’s not safe. Not with her husbands.”

  I could see the protest in his eyes and shook my head. “Don’t even say it. I know what I see. Trust me, you’re better off finding somebody else. Let go any lingering hopes you may have, and you’ll be a lot happier. Consider it a friendly warning, unlike the thrashing you’d get from her men. They forgave Vanzir because of the circumstances. You don’t have any such excuse.”

  Before he could say another word, I let go and caught up to Camille and Morio. Motioning for Shamas to join us, we ran the rest of the way back up the driveway to home.

  By the time we got home, Sharah had called, and Smoky and Shade were home. Shade was in the shower. I grinned. Somehow, I didn’t think cuddling up to Martin had gone over well with him.

  Menolly was waiting in the kitchen. “Sharah says they arrived at the hospital without incident. Wilbur’s hanging on. He’s in serious condition, but she says he should make it, though he still hasn’t woken up. He has a skull fracture—and it’s nasty but it will heal. His leg may still have to be amputated, they aren’t sure. And his arm was broken in three places. He also suffered three cracked ribs, a broken toe, and multiple burns that look like they were caused by electrical shocks. Probably little bolts of lightning.”

  The look on her face was daunting. Menolly had been through torture—far more than what any of us had undergone—and she hated it when friends and family were hurt. Even though Wilbur got under her skin, I had the feeling she had grown fond of the big galoot.

  “You don’t think he betrayed us, either, do you?” I challenged her to answer. “Camille doesn’t, I know that much.”

  Menolly frowned, toying with the hem of her shirt. “Honestly? No. I don’t. There has to be some other explanation. Today, once you’ve had some sleep, I suggest you go over to what’s left of Wilbur’s house and go through it, searching for anything you can find that might be a clue. The Tregart came back to destroy his house—there has to be a reason. I just hope that he doesn’t finish the job before we can get to it.”

  “You want me to go over now?” I didn’t want to—I was exhausted and smelled like smoke. But if Menolly thought it was best, I’d drag myself back over there and go through the smoldering ruins.

  She frowned, thinking. “No. Wait till morning. Get some sleep. All of you. Go over when it’s light, when you can see what might be lurking in the shadows. By then, maybe Wilbur will have woken up and have some information for us.”

/>   A glance at the clock signaled the need for her to return to her lair. She yawned, then disappeared behind the bookcase. I stretched and motioned to the others.

  “Time for sleep. We have a full day. We have to find out where Van and Jaycee are. We have to figure out who the man with the spirit seal is and what relationship he has to the others. We have to—” I stopped as Shade appeared in the doorway.

  “Come on, woman. We have to sleep. Let me carry you off to bed.” Shade pulled me up and we waved good night to Camille and her men. They trailed after us up the stairs as the first rays of dawn broke through the living room window, splashing the room with a faint ray of hope.

  Chapter 13

  The smell of bacon and eggs woke me up. I blinked, stretching my arms wide as I sat up. The clock read eleven ten. Five hours of sleep would have to do for the day. Shade was already up; his side of the bed was empty.

  As I pushed back the comforter, it occurred to me that I was now used to sleeping next to someone every night. That when Shade didn’t come to bed at the same time I did, I would doze, keeping one ear open for the fall of his foot on the stairs. I loved his smell, the feel of his skin under my fingers, the lazy, smooth tone of his voice, the safe way I felt around him, as if he could protect me from all the world’s evil, even though I knew he couldn’t.

  I love him. I really love him. I twisted the heavy smoky quartz ring around on my right ring finger. It hadn’t come off since I’d first put it on, the day I met Shade. Yeah, it seemed at home there. Leaving it, I took a quick shower and then dressed in jeans and a sweater. As I headed down the stairs, my heart felt a little lighter, even though I knew we were facing a long day.

  Camille, Morio, Shade, and I headed over to check out Wilbur’s house, while Smoky attended to some business out at his barrow. We always left someone at home to watch over Hanna, Maggie, and the house—and that was especially important now that Iris was gone on her honeymoon. Iris could wield a magical punch that easily rivaled any of our powers, but Hanna was mortal. One of the Northmen, yes, but mortal, regardless.