Touch of Shadow (The Shadow Sorceress Book 5)

by Bilinda Sheehan

  "Well, according to the experts, he did. I know her, Amber. I know she's not capable of doing this to her own child," Graham said, the desperation in his voice tugging at my heart.

  He truly believed it; he honest to God believed that she hadn't done all those horrible things to her own son. Hell, I wanted to believe it, but I'd seen the marks with my own eyes. I'd spoken to Peter, felt his fear, and that wasn't something I could ignore, no matter what the “experts” said.

  "You're wrong. Peter didn't brand himself, and if you believe that, Graham, then you're a delusional fool."

  "Remember who you're talking to, Morgan. This delusional fool is still your boss," Graham said, gritting his teeth and balling his hands into fists at his side.

  Stepping closer, I lowered my voice. "Why are you protecting her? Why is it so important to you that she isn't guilty of abuse?"

  He glanced away, but not before I saw the look in his eyes. He loved her—that much was for certain—but how and why they knew each other, well, that was still a mystery to me.

  "We knew each other in college, even dated for a while before she met Robert..." he said quietly. "She's not a bad person, Amber. She wouldn't do this; she loves that boy...."

  "Love can be twisted, Graham—you and I both know this. It's not always sunshine and roses."

  He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak once more, but Karis interrupted him.

  "She's right, Graham. Love isn't simple," she said. I hadn't seen her leave the room where her son lay, fighting for his life, but then, I'd been paying far too much attention to Graham.

  "Are you admitting to the abuse, then?" I asked, suddenly curious by her agreement with me.

  "No, but I want you to go in there and do whatever it is Graham thinks you can do to save him," she said. "And when you do, you can do whatever you please with me. I don't care. I just want you to save him." There was a weariness to her voice that I hadn't been expecting, and declaration took the wind right out of my sails. Her behaviour certainly wasn't that of an abuser.

  Graham's gaze met mine, his eyes pleading with me. Without another word, I turned away and headed for the room. My hand closed around the door handle, but I hesitated. What if there was nothing I could do? He was so tiny, so fragile. But that wasn't what really frightened me. What if there was something I could do, but it meant upsetting the balance...? I was pretty certain I couldn't just walk away and leave him to die if there was even the remotest possibility that I could bring him back.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The steady beep of the machines, the sound of the oxygen as it flowed through the tubes and into the big vent that Peter was hooked up to; the rise and fall of his chest as the vent took each breath for him….

  My mind instantly conjured an image of Graham and the state he had been in. But Lily had brought him back from the edge; she had saved his life.... In all the opportunities that I'd had with her, I'd never once thought to ask her how she had saved him.

  But then, that was my problem. I had no real training. I stumbled from one dire situation to the next, relying on the strength of my magic to simply bulldoze my way to a solution. Of course, some things couldn't be forced. Some things required a delicate touch, and I had a sinking feeling that this was one of those things.

  The doctors ignored me, their whispered murmurs providing a backing track to the situation.

  "Hey, Peter," I said, taking the seat Karis had vacated. "My name is Amber, we met back at your house." I took his hand gently in my own, allowing my magic to flow down my arm, through my fingers and into his. "You don't have to be afraid, I'm here with you," I whispered as I allowed my magic to reach out through him. What it was searching for, well, I had no clue, but I'd know it when I found it, or at least my power would.

  My power reached the centre of him and then doubled back on itself. The void where his consciousness should have been brought me out in a cold sweat. I'd spoken to him, the memory of his voice still in my head. But what lay in the bed was nothing more than a shell.

  His heart was badly damaged—I could feel it, or rather, my magic could, and there was a darkness to his brain that felt wrong … but it was unsurprising considering the lack of a soul. It hit me then—that was what the void was. There was no soul. I could feel its vacancy inside him, as though someone had reached into his chest and pulled it out with an ice cream scoop; the edges of the void were smooth, so I knew the soul hadn't been ripped free. It was just gone....

  Releasing his hand, I pushed up from the chair forcefully, sending it crashing to the floor with a loud sound that earned me two disapproving glares from the doctors on the opposite side of the bed.

  "Sorry, I—" I started to speak, but I cut myself off. What was I going to say? Sorry, his lack of a soul gave me a shock?

  Clamping my lips shut, I reached the door in two strides. The second I was out in the corridor, I could feel my panic slowly beginning to subside, but my breathing continued to come in erratic gasps.

  "What is it?" Victoria asked, appearing next to my elbow, her hand wrapped around the hilt of the obsidian blade she carried hidden on her belt. I could feel her alertness rolling off of her in waves, and I was suddenly glad that she was my partner and not my enemy.

  Graham stood on the other side of me, but he didn't reach out to steady me, the way he would have normally. From the expression her wore, I could have sworn that he knew what I was thinking … but it was impossible. He couldn't know. Or maybe I was so spooked I'd lost my ability to control my own expressions.

  "There's nothing..." I said, my voice unsteady.

  "Nothing you can do?" Karis asked, her question making my chest ache.

  I shook my head. What was I supposed to tell her? Should I tell her that her son was already gone? That what lay in the bed was nothing more than a meat suit, a beautiful husk of the child she had loved? That everything she had loved about him—his laugh, his smile, the sound of his voice—all of that was gone...?

  "I'm sorry," I said, but the sight of Karis' face crumpling in distress was enough to cut me off.

  Graham grabbed my arm and towed me down the hall out of earshot, leaving Victoria to catch and console Peter's distraught mother.

  "I never thought you, of all people, would let a small child die, Morgan," Graham said, swinging me around. His face was a distorted mask of rage and disgust. "You had your sister bring me back and I know you and her share a similar power. Can't you just do whatever it is you do and save him...?"

  "You don't understand. I tried, but there's nothing—"

  "Yeah, we all heard you. There's nothing you can do. The great Amber Morgan, one of the first shadow sorcerers in nearly six hundred years, and you can't save the life of an innocent child."

  Jerking free of Graham's punishing grip, I felt my anger rise. "Don't you dare lay this on me. I didn't say I couldn't help. I said there's simply nothing there. Or at least I would have, if you'd let me finish," I said, gritting the words out from between my teeth.

  He stared at me, his rage slowly draining from his eyes and then his face as my words sank home. "I don't understand … how can there be nothing?"

  Shrugging, I pushed my hand back through my hair. "Hell if I know, Graham. I went in there to help. There's damage to his body, and I could heal that, or at least … I'm pretty sure I could, but the void..." I trailed off as an icy shudder raced up my spine. I could still feel the void. Cold, empty, nothingness....

  Well, that wasn't entirely true.

  The more I thought about it, the void wasn't nothingness. In fact, the void felt hungry.

  Waiting.

  Waiting for something to come along and fill it up. It was impossible; nothing could fill a void like that. The boy's soul was gone, scooped out, and nothing was going to bring it back.

  "But back at the house, I mean, he was a functioning kid—what happened between then and now to...." Graham trailed off and dropped onto one of the plastic bench sea
ts that lined the corridor.

  Joining him, I sat back and let my head rest on the white wall behind us.

  "What do I tell Karis?"

  I shrugged. It was the exact same question I had asked myself and it had no good answer—I knew that for sure—but she deserved the truth. Who would share it with her ... well, that wasn't up to me.

  "You could always leave it up to the doctors. It's their job, at the end of the day," I said finally.

  Graham shook his head and sighed before climbing to his feet. "No, if she's going to hear it from anyone, it should be me. I gave her hope—I let her believe there was a chance for her child to survive this and I was wrong.... I have to tell her."

  I didn't answer him. He knew her best; he loved her, and I had a feeling that there was a part of her, deep down, that loved him, too. Maybe hearing the truth from Graham would bring her a type of peace, if peace was even possible for a parent who lost a child. It wasn't something I'd experienced but it felt utterly unnatural—the child wasn't supposed to go before the parent.

  "Anything new on Tess Greenville?" Graham asked me suddenly, and I knew he was stalling, not that I could blame him. From our place down the hall, I could hear Karis' inconsolable sobbing.

  "We went to see Heddou," I said, and the flash of interest in Graham's eyes told me to continue. "But he wasn't there. Plenty of dead bodies, though. When all of this is over and done with, there's going to be one hell of a cleanup needed."

  Graham nodded thoughtfully. "Any idea where he might have gone or where the bodies came from?"

  I'd never told Graham about Heddou's little secret; only Nic knew. My heart ached at the mere thought of him.

  "There was some kind of show down. We think whoever is behind all of this took him, but we need to follow up a few other leads before we'll know for certain."

  Graham nodded, but I could tell his attention was back with Karis.

  "You know we'll need to get to the bottom of the abuse," I said.

  "Really, Amber? You still believe she hurt him?" Graham asked, but the anger I had expected to hear in his voice was gone.

  "I know what he told me. I know fear, and he was afraid, and let's not forget she admitted to restraining him."

  "But that doesn't mean she left those marks on him."

  "Loving her doesn't make her innocent, Graham," I said softly.

  "Go," he said gruffly, turning away from me.

  "Graham, I—"

  "Get out of here, Morgan." His tone brooked no argument, and I watched as he reached Victoria and slowly took Karis from her.

  He was allowing his feelings to cloud his judgment. Or was I simply being too harsh on him? He hadn't allowed his feelings for Jessica to stop him from doing his job. Why should this be any different? I knew him. But as I watched him console Peter's mother, I suddenly wasn't certain if I could trust him.

  "What was all that about?" Victoria asked, reaching my side, her gaze searching my face.

  "Graham's got it from here—nothing more we can do," I said.

  "There's something you're not telling me."

  "Yup," I said, nodding in Marcel's direction. "For good reason."

  Victoria picked up on the unspoken words instantly and nodded. "Got it.”

  "So where to now?" Marcel asked, drawing level with us.

  "Back to the Tess's house," I said, meeting his gaze head-on.

  Marcel's expression shifted to one of surprise. "Why? There is nothing there for you; she is gone.”

  "Not gone," I said with a grim smile. I'd seen her at the cemetery when Jason had performed his little trick. Whatever he had done had brought her back from wherever she had ended up once her body had been destroyed.

  The fact that I hadn't seen her since then suggested she was weakened, but the trauma she'd suffered in her final moments would give her the power she needed. Rage was fuel for the dead, and I had no doubt that Tess would have plenty of it to feed from at the scene of her destruction. It was a risk, but it was one I was willing to take. We had nothing else and I wasn't going to sit around on my hands and watch Graham break the news to Karis that there really was no coming back for her son.

  Marcel gave me a strange look, but he nodded. "If anyone else said what you did, I would think they had lost their minds, but coming from you…." He shrugged. "Well, let's just say it holds weight."

  "Good, then let's go. The sooner we get out of here, the better," I said, tearing my gaze away from Graham and Karis.

  15

  It was strange, finding myself back at the crime scene once more. The last time I'd been here, Marcel's magic had very nearly overwhelmed me completely, but now there was nothing at all, and that in itself was odd.

  The silence as we entered the house had the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention. There was something terribly eerie about a crime scene after the technicians had been through; the detectives had been and gone, and the body was no longer where it had fallen. After a violent crime, the area around it was marked with a stain, one that couldn't be seen but rather felt. Tess Greenville's house was no different.

  Stepping into the living room, I stared at the symbols burned into the ceiling and walls. They didn't make any sense to me, but then, Voodoo wasn't my magic. Not that I was really sure what my magic was. I had an affinity with Voodoo, but I'd never studied it beyond the obligatory intro course I'd taken as part of the Elite's training. The intricacies of the spells were generally lost on me, but because of what I was, I knew what it felt like; I knew the colour of it, and when I'd been around the zombies I'd felt the thrum of its energy in my head.

  "What now?" Victoria asked, curiosity visible in her face.

  "Now I call Tess back here," I said, gesturing to the room and the congealed stains on the floor.

  Marcel dropped down onto the modern couch that sat against the back wall. It reminded me of something I'd seen in an IKEA advert once: way too modern and also out of my price-range, despite their reputation for cheap furnishings.

  "This, I look forward to," he said, his accent growing heavier. I looked at him a little closer. The nonchalant air he seemed to have was just a facade. Beneath the surface, I could sense his nervous energy; it was the first time I'd seen him nervous and it was beyond interesting.

  "I don't know if this is going to be safe for you," I said to Victoria, remembering what she had told me about death and changelings.

  She cocked her head to one side and studied me the way a bird of prey might focus in on a field mouse. "You are concerned for my safety?"

  "Yeah, I don't want anything to happen to you, and this is going run pretty close to the line," I said. If I was honest, I wasn't sure what exactly I was going to do. The only thing I had to go on was my gut instinct. I knew I could do this—I could call Tess here and I could allow her to feed on the rage, the trauma her death had created. The only thing I was a little concerned about was what would happen to Tess after I gave her the means to materialize. Would the rage overwhelm her, and if it did, then how was I going to undo it all?

  Victoria studied me for a few seconds more before she nodded, seemingly satisfied. "I will wait outside," she said. "Beyond the crime scene tape," she added after a moment’s consideration.

  I let out the breath I'd been holding and watched as she headed for the door. I waited, counting five seconds in my head before I pulled out the blade Jason had left behind for me. The runes ran down the blade in perfect rows. I couldn't read them all, but I could feel the power coming from the blade itself. From the moment we had entered the house, I'd felt the blade come to life. Jason had known that I would need it and he had deliberately left it for me.

  The memory of the look we'd shared before my power had swamped him still haunted me. He knew the truth. How he knew, I was less sure. Nic hadn't told him—I was almost sure of it. But then, there was a lot about Nic that I didn't know.

  Pushing the thoughts aside, I hefted the blade in my hand and lifted it into the light.

&nb
sp; "What is that?" Marcel asked, the sudden interest in his voice making me uneasy.

  "Just something I borrowed from a friend," I said, bringing the blade down across my hand drawing my own blood.

  The second the blade tasted me, the metal flared to life, the runes lighting up and casting shadows against the walls. Power swelled in my core and it took every ounce of strength I had not to simply let it flow free.

  Instead, I closed my eyes and pictured Tess in my head. I didn't know her, but she had been appearing off and on to me for two months, so conjuring her image in my head really wasn't an issue.

  "Tess, can you hear me?" I asked, my voice sounding strange to my own ears, as though I was standing inside a vacuum.

  I felt, more than heard, an answer. The gentle brush of what could have been finger-tips against my arm had my eyes opening.

  She came into view, her eyes wide with terror, and a loud scream erupted from her lips. The sound tore at my ear drums, and still it continued, reverberating around the room.

  "Tess, please, listen to me," I said, reaching out with the hand I'd used the knife on.

  Marcel grabbed my arm but it was already too late. Tess reached out to me. The second my blood-soaked hand touched hers the screaming stopped. Everything stopped; time itself came to a grinding halt, and I was only vaguely aware of Marcel's grip on me.

  "Why did you bring me here?" Tess asked, her face tear-stained.

  "Who did this to you?" I asked, feeling her fear and grief as though they were my own. Her emotions were so strong that it made breathing difficult, and it was an effort not to give into the mounting terror that was slowly spreading through my chest.

  "Jasper. I thought he loved me, but...." She trailed off, rage flashing across her face. "Do you know what it's like to be trapped? To be used over and over again? To have no control over anything, to be less than nothing?"

  "I'm sorry," I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were woefully inadequate.