The Shadow City (The Demon-Born Trilogy Book 2)

by L. C. Hibbett

  Not sure what to read next? Turn the page to read my Prequel Story for my upcoming Wicked Witch Series!

  Destiny isn’t a good witch. She lies, she cheats, and she dances on the dead. But Destiny has a secret that might just change everything…

  Wicked Witch

  Raise the dead, raise the dead, raise the dead. The chanting was too faint for humans to detect from the street, but it pounded against my ears like a bass drum. I clenched my back teeth as I unlocked the gate to Glasnevin cemetery. Talk about indiscretion. My classmates were fools. The light from my fingertips cast an eerie glow on the carved angels watching me from a nearby headstone, and a burst of raucous laughter echoed down the avenue as I closed the gate behind me. I knew exactly where to find the party—I’d chosen the crypt myself.

  “Hey, what are you doing in here? The graveyard is closed.” Damn. A beam of light fell on the path in front of my feet and flashed across my face. My stare narrowed on the middle-aged security guard lumbering across the gravel. Beads of sweat were building in the creases of his forehead, despite the cool night air.

  If I were a Silver Witch, I might have charmed my face into something that would have fulfilled his deepest desire and left him lusting after something he could never have. An unquenchable thirst. The burly guard planted himself on the path in front of me and shone the light in my eyes. I snapped my fingers and watched him collapse to the ground. His flashlight rolled across the grass and flickered for a moment before it died, leaving the crumpled figure in darkness. I stepped over the unconscious body. I wasn’t a Silver Witch.

  Willow was the first to notice me when I entered the clearing in front of the burial rooms. The party had already started. There must have been thirty juniors from Dagda Prep gathered around the bonfire, and the ground was littered with more empty booze bottles than there were people. Willow’s blond hair reflected the purple and green flames of the magical fire like an iridescent halo. She teetered over to me on five-inch heels. One of her hands clutched an open bottle of champagne, while the other hand attempted to pull her dress down over her thighs. Only Willow could make a two thousand dollar dress look cheap. She squealed and threw her arms around my neck. “Destiny, you made it. I totally thought you were going to blow us off.” Her breath was moist as she whispered into my ear. “You know, with everything that’s going on, maybe you should give tonight a miss?”

  “I invented Graveyard Fridays, Willow. Why would I flake on my own party? And I told you—there’s nothing going on.” I buried my fist inside the pocket of my leather jacket and curled my fingers around the narrow object I had covered meticulously in plastic wrap a few hours before. Sealing my fate like it was a piece of luncheon meat. Or a poison apple. I contemplated tossing it into the fire and watching it burn like the piece of trash it was, but I didn’t. I needed it in my hand to remind me that I couldn’t back out. I had to tell Mark. Tonight.

  Willow ignored my response and prodded my oversized black shirt with her fingertip. “Gods, Destiny. You could have made an effort. Mark could have any girl he wants. My mom says a woman doesn’t deserve to keep her man if she can’t be bothered to make sure she looks good for him.”

  “Your mother has been divorced four times, Willow. Maybe you should find another relationship guru.” For a split second Willow reminded me of a carp—her eyes bulging and her mouth snapping open and shut. The flash of self-satisfaction faded from my blood, and I uncurled my clenched hands. “Sorry, that was bitchy. I like your mom.”

  Lie. Willow’s mother was the worst kind of shallow. She was the archetypical Silver Witch, a pretty face that concealed a rotten core. I had hated everything about her since the day my father married her on my sixth birthday. Willow seemed to think this made us sisters, but I knew better. My father had been married a hundred times in his long life. He lined his wives and children up and knocked them down like toy soldiers. Witches, descendants of the immortals, were nothing but toys to him. Balor’s playthings. The marriage barely lasted a year before he tossed Willow and her mother aside like garbage, but ten years later, I still had to see Willow every day at school. Leaving the Family wasn’t an option, nobody got to escape. Unless they managed to find a place with the Free Witches or they were one of the Vanished. I swallowed hard at the thought of the missing witches.

  The chatter around the bonfire suddenly escalated into whooping and hollering, drawing my eyes away from Willow’s narrowed glare and onto the figure making its way through the rows of tombstones. My heart began to beat a little faster. Even through the night mist, there was no mistaking those broad shoulders or that careless strut. I refocused my attention on Willow. I needed her out of the way before Mark got here so that I could talk to him properly.

  “You’re right, Wil. I should make more of an effort with my appearance.” I gave her my most sincere fake smile, and Willow pursed her gloss-covered lips. Mark was close enough for me to make out his chiseled face and his stormy gaze as it raked the crowd. I reached for the big guns. “Honestly, Willow, it’s not as easy for me. I’m not pretty like you. It’s a lot harder for me to find clothes. I really wish I had your style.”

  Bingo. My second lie of the night hit its target and Willow cracked like an egg. She pawed at my hair. “I know, Destiny. It’s so awful for you with that bushy mane and that chest. I mean, imagine you in this dress? You’d look like a top-heavy carrot head. Tragic. Don’t worry, I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, and we’ll get you a whole new wardrobe.”

  I let Willow prattle on as I watched the others clamor to greet Mark. He took a bottle of vodka without even looking to see who had offered it to him. His eyes scanned the bonfire until he found me. He raised one eyebrow and stared at me intently. I knew what his look meant. He wanted to know had I forgiven him for flaking on me earlier. I hadn’t, but my body obviously didn’t realize, and I started to make my way around the bonfire, subconsciously drawn to him, the moon to my tide.

  Willow grabbed my wrist and yanked me back in her direction. Her voice was a hiss. “What are you doing, Destiny? I know Mark stood you up this morning. He embarrassed you in from of the whole school. Juno said even the seniors were laughing at you. Everybody knows you two are over. You weren’t even suited in the first place—he’s only dating you to annoy his parents. Cut him free, tomorrow we’ll get you looking pretty so you can find a proper boyfriend, okay?”

  A thousand vicious retorts danced on my tongue, but I kept them imprisoned behind my teeth and took a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to unleash my fury. Willow was an idiot. She couldn’t understand what Mark and I had. She wouldn’t know love if it smacked her in the face. Love. My mind snagged on that thought like an untuned string on a violin. A hand snaked under my jacket from behind and slithered around my waist. “You look good in leather, Destiny. Bad to the bone. It’s hot.”

  Willow’s tanned skin flushed an angry shade of red as she flounced away from Mark and me. A wave of gratitude washed over me, chased by the sting of irritation. Why was I grateful for a compliment from my own boyfriend? I shoved my hand into my pocket and fingered the plastic stick. Mark slid in front of me and tried to pull me into his arms. I pressed my fist against his chest. “Where were you today, Markus?”

  He ran his finger along my jaw bone and traced my bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re mad at me. Do you know how cute you look when you get angry?” I didn’t move an inch, but the people sitting around the bonfire began to shift uncomfortably and rubbed their arms as if the temperature had dropped. Mark took a step back from me and held his palms out. “Okay, Destiny, I’m sorry. I should have called. My bad. You need to calm down.”

  “I’m calm, Markus Raventhorn. I just want to know where you were. I told you I had something important to talk about, and you left me standing outside the school gates like a loser. Where were you?” By now, everybody had figured out the drop in temperature had nothing to do with the weather. I could sense how badly they wanted to stare at our argument, but they were al
l too terrified to turn around. Nobody wanted to face the wrath of the Black Witch.

  Mark stared into my eyes and reached for my hands. The sparks were already beginning to burn, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he turned my arms upwards and kissed the inside of my wrists, one after another. I took a deep breath and the night air began to warm again. Mark pulled me closer. “I should have called, but I just crashed after the party last night. I’m sorry, baby. I love you. You know that. You’re my girl.”

  The energy radiating from his voice was like a drug, I wanted to draw it into my bloodstream, but I was smart enough to know when Mark was hiding something from me. I crossed my arms. Mark shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Listen, babe, whatever people have been saying, it’s bull. You know what these kids are like, everybody chats crap. They’re just crapbags.”

  I squinted at him, and Mark grinned. “It’s my new word. Heard it on a late night movie last night. Best word ever, right?”

  “Who did you go the cinema with?” The question tasted sour on my tongue.

  Mark stared over my shoulder and raked his fingers through his hair. “Nobody, I watched it in bed, it was just one of those Z-list movies that’s on in the middle of the night.”

  A burst of activity from the other side of the bonfire drew Mark’s focus away from me. Willow had stumbled back into the clearing, and she was waving her hands and shouting. Her huge green eyes were bright with the wild light that meant she had found trouble. Mark grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the excitement. Willow looked away from her willing audience as we approached and fixed her gaze on Mark. A nameless flicker of unease ran down my spine. Mark leaned against a towering marble headstone and pulled me under his arm. Everyone fell silent when Mark opened his mouth. Same as always. “What’s going on, Willow? Action?”

  Willow licked her plump lips and pressed her hands against the curve of her waist. “Could be. I found somebody. Here. In the cemetery.”

  I snorted. “No, you didn’t, Willow. It’s almost midnight, in a cemetery, miles from Dublin city center—nobody comes here but us at night. Ease up on the champagne, girl, you need to preserve those precious brain cells.”

  Mark chuckled, and the rest of the gang followed his lead, laughing like hyenas. Willow’s lips thinned and she shot me a venomous glare. “There’s a kid beside the tower. Looks our age, but he’s not from the Prep. He’s not Family. He has a spell circle and candles with him. Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  My stomach dropped as I felt the change in Mark’s posture. His muscles tensed in response to the adrenaline pumping through his veins. This is what Mark lived for, a chance to wreak havoc. The excitement of the hunt. He grinned down at the other boys sitting beside the fire. “What do you reckon, guys? Is he trying to raise Daniel O’Connell’s ghost? Maybe we should let Destiny to help him out with that, eh?”

  “Raise the dead, raise the dead, raise the dead.” The boys jumped to their feet and started stamping their feet. Mark grabbed my waist and hoisted me into the air effortlessly. He joined in with the chanting. “Raise the dead. Raise the dead. Raise dead.”

  “No!” I released a burst of energy, and Mark’s fingers spasmed, releasing me from his hold. The circle of teenagers fell silent, and a warm flush crept over my cheeks. I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not in the mood. Headache.”

  I could see some of the others exchanging glances, but nobody was brave enough to open their mouth. Except for Willow.

  “Buzzkill much, Destiny?” She flicked her golden waves and thrust the bottle of champagne into my hands. “Here, you need it more than I do. I’m going to the tower to have some fun with the human kid. If you decide not to be a total loser, you’ll know where we’ll be.” She let her gaze linger on Mark as she passed us and I felt my fingers reach for the lump of plastic in my pocket. I was pretty sure if I used enough force I could gouge Willow’s eye out with it. Inflict a decent amount of damage. It had certainly ripped a hole in my life.

  Mark didn’t say a word to me until the others had filed out, but I could feel his anger bristling. I crossed my arms and waited for him to make the first move. We’d played these games often enough for me to know the rules. That’s how we worked. Fire and ice. Mark took a swig from his bottle of neat vodka. “You used your magic on me, Destiny.”

  I pulled my jacket closed over my stomach. “I’ve used my magic on you before. If I remember properly, you liked it.”

  Mark’s face split into a lazy smirk, and I watched his anger melt away. He sat down on a low tombstone and reached out for me. “Oh, yeah. You in the mood for that kind of magic making? I thought you had a headache?”

  My body responded to his touch, in spite of myself. “I think it was just a side-effect of Willow’s toxic perfume.”

  Mark grinned into my neck and kissed his way along my collarbone. “The lengths you’ll go to so you can have me to yourself. All you had to do was ask, babe.”

  My stomach tightened, and I untangled myself from his embrace. “Actually, I did ask—this morning, and yesterday, and the day before. Every time you either turned up with a drunken posse, or you didn’t show.”

  “Gods, what is your problem, Destiny? A drunken posse? They’re our friends. And you were one of them until you went on this stupid healthy living crusade. I mean I tried to support you, but seriously, it’s total bull. You’re the daughter of an immortal god and a high witch. You don’t need to worry too much about anti-oxidants and organic fruit, and honestly, babe, you’re more fun with a bit of alcohol in your system.”

  Panic marched over my gut. I needed to tell him, to explain why I had changed, but something was stopping me. Blocking the words from forming on my lips. Lies and secrets were my lifelong friends. If my father had taught me anything, it was the value of trusting nobody. Sharing secrets went against every lesson life had taught me. I screwed my face up and prepared to rip off the band-aid. “There’s something I have to tell you…”

  Mark lifted his eyebrows and waited for me to continue. My tongue was dry. I eyed the vodka bottle in his hand and sucked air in through my teeth. I couldn’t do it. Destiny, the Black Witch—allergic to honesty. My vision focused on the tattoo that decorated Mark’s wrist. The eel, symbol of his clan. “I want to leave the coven. I don’t want to serve the Family.”

  The words that burst from my lips were intended as filler, a lie to distract from the secret I was struggling to share, but even as they tumbled from my mouth, I felt the weight of unexpected truth in the air. Mark squinted at me. “You’re kidding, right? This is a joke?”

  I shook my head, as surprised by my revelation as he was. Mark started to pace the fire, shooting me black looks as he walked. “This is what you wanted to tell me? This is why you’ve wanted to get me alone?”

  I wrapped my fingers around the plastic in my pocket and stayed silent. Mark closed the space between us and gripped my shoulders. “Gods, Destiny, I thought it was something else, you wanted to end it, or you had heard some lies, or something. Damn. That’s crazy talk, Des, you know it is. There’s no out. Especially not for you.”

  “We could fight them. Isn’t that what all this stuff is about in the first place? Breaking their rules, sticking two fingers to your mom and dad? We could really tell them where to shove it. The two of us could have a life of our own. Regular school, regular jobs, regular life.” I bit my lip.

  Mark stretched his hands over his head. “Destiny, this party crap is just a game. Push the boundaries and cause a bit of friction. Nobody really wants to get kicked out. Regular life isn’t Neverland. It’s dull. No money, no magic, no power. You’d hate it, babe, you’re a Black Witch, raising hell is what you do.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s the only thing I can do. I could use my powers for good. I don’t have to be what they want me to be.” I hugged my arms around my middle, and the memory of my father’s voice hissed through my mind. A Black Witch is a wicked witch, Destiny, nine times out of ten.

/>   Mark clasped his hands behind his skull. “It’s all semantics, anyway. You’re going nowhere. They won’t even let you move to another coven, and you don’t really want to. It’s just a phase, gorgeous. You’re bored. Too much clean living, not enough fun. You need to lighten up. Come on, have a drink, and let’s go play with the human.”

  I eyed the bottle of vodka Mark was waving in my direction as I fingered the plastic stick. He was right. The Family was never going to let me leave, and if I pushed too hard, I would end up on the vanished list. Like my mom. All I needed to do was get everything back to normal. Why had I even considered telling Mark? There was no choice. This was the real world, not some fairy story like Peter Pan. I would get it fixed in the morning and go back to my normal life.

  I snatched the bottle from Mark’s hand and took a gulp of the clear liquid. It burned my throat with a familiar fire. Mark gave me a sly smile and dragged my body against his. His mouth was hot and insistent as he kissed me. The sound of shrieking and howls of laughter rang through the rows of tombstones. The others had found their prey. The intensity of Mark’s kisses grew in response to the wicked delight in the air and magic pumped through my veins. This was my life. This was what I wanted.

  I broke off our embrace and vomited onto the ground beside Mark’s feet. He patted my back and threw the bottle of vodka at me as he ran in the direction of his friends’ revelry. “Come on, babe, get back on the horse. I want to see at least half that bottle gone by the time we get to the tower.”

  He didn’t wait for me to catch up.

  I trailed the bottle of vodka along the top of each tombstone as I plodded over the graves. Men, women, children. Each gravestone was beautiful in its own way. A cheer went up a few hundred meters to my right. I couldn’t see them yet, but I guessed that meant Mark had found the others. They were welcoming their leader. Lord of the Fleas. The shadow of the tower fell on me as I turned towards their noise and I shivered.