by Sarah Piper
Still, I trusted that he’d come through. He’d already helped me so much, guiding me through the strange and often frightening developments of my magic. My so-called destiny. I wasn’t sure if friend was the right word just yet, but he’d certainly been loyal and trustworthy. I didn’t take that lightly.
“He’s in this with us,” I reiterated, feeling a sudden need to defend him. “Even if he’s unpredictable and not always physically present.”
“I think he’s in this with you,” Asher said, his tone implying what he didn’t say out loud. “And I don’t know if encouraging that is the best idea.”
Why was he always such an asshole? It’s like he had a built-in decency limit. Two minutes of being nice and his circuits started overloading.
“To reiterate, dick,” I said, “he saved your life. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.”
“Ash,” Ronan warned, “you’re heading for a timeout. And by timeout, I mean an ass-whooping. Gray, ignore him.” Ronan reclaimed his coffee from Emilio, then said, “Death—Liam—whatever you want to call him… He’s bound to Gray’s power. Necromancy is his domain, and he’s connected to her no matter what. Nothing we can do about that.”
I dropped the stack of plates I’d gathered back onto the table, making them jump. “Stop talking about him like he’s some kind of parasite! He’s an ally, you guys. He wants to help us. I know he does.”
“He’s Death,” Ronan said plainly. “Chaotic neutral. No alliances. No enemies. No friends. The great equalizer. By nature, he can’t help us. You might inadvertently be helped by something he says or does, but it’s not because he’s this stand-up guy choosing to do the right thing.”
“You’re wrong,” I said. “He’s… well, he’s Liam now, not just Death.”
“He’s wearing a suit called Liam,” Ash pointed out. “Not the same thing.”
All three of them were looking at me with pity in their eyes, like I was a little kid who kept insisting Santa was real, no matter how many times he’d forgotten our address.
It stung. Not because they didn’t trust Liam—they didn’t know him like I did, and trust had to be earned—I understood that. But because it felt like they didn’t trust me.
No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I’d always be their weakest link.
“Gray,” Ronan began, but I shook my head, grabbing the stack of dishes I’d dropped. I brought them out to the kitchen and loaded up the dishwasher, then put away the leftovers and washed all the pans Asher had used.
When I’d calmed down enough to trust that I wouldn’t lash out at them again, I returned to the dining room.
They were right where I’d left them, silent and unmoving.
“Okay,” I said, and they all looked up. “I have a lot to learn, and zero time to do it. Self-defense, tactical fighting, first aid, basic survival techniques, magic… Forget crash course. I need a full-on wreck.”
I pulled out a chair, taking a seat next to Emilio.
“I trust you guys,” I went on. “I trust that you’re doing what you think is best, that you know how to deal with certain things that I don’t, and it goes without saying you have a lot more experience.”
“It’s not about experience,” Emilio said, but I held up my hand.
“I know I haven’t always made the best decisions,” I said, “but I’m trying. Maybe I don’t deserve it yet, but I’m asking for your trust, too. I’m asking you to believe me when I say I’m keeping an open mind with all of you, and I’m doing the best I can.”
“You’re doing awesome,” Ronan said, and to my surprise, Asher nodded. “We understand that a lot of this is new for you. It’s new for us, too, Gray. I’m sorry for what I said about Liam. I’m willing to give him a shot, but you gotta know you’re our main concern.”
“We get that he’s helping you,” Asher said. “But Death… Liam… He’s still an unknown quantity. That’s what concerns us.”
“I hear you,” I said, looking at each of them in turn. “And I know you guys have my back. I appreciate that more than you know. But in all this worrying about Death and hunters and rogue vamps and who knows what other monsters we haven’t faced yet, you keep forgetting something really important.”
Emilio slid his arm around the back of my chair, his fingers brushing my shoulder. His warm brown eyes swept down my face, then back up again, his brow wrinkled in concern. “What is it, querida?”
I swallowed hard, dropping my voice to a whisper. “I’m an unknown quantity, too.”
Three men—all of whom I cared about—stared at me in disbelief, as if it would never occur to them that I could be anything other than the woman staring right back at them. Unpredictable, sure. A little complicated, definitely. But not a stranger. Not unknowable.
I wished I could reassure them, could crack a joke and a smile and tease them for being so serious.
But deep down, I was unknowable—even to myself. Every day I was unearthing new facets, new emotions, new powers, new fears, new strengths.
New dangers.
Liam had once told me I had no idea what I was capable of. He’d said it like it was a good thing, but to me, it was a double-edged sword.
It meant I might put my skills and magic to use fighting for my friends, saving the witches, and eradicating the world of hunters and anyone else who meant us harm.
But it also meant I could just as easily turn on my so-called allies. Or lose myself in the magic. Or end a life rather than saving one. Liam had said as much that first night when I’d asked him what a Shadowborn was.
What I was.
They are necromancers in the truest sense of the word. They have the capacity to give life, to save it, or to destroy it. And they are, all of them, bound to me…
“Doesn’t matter. We’re with you either way.”
The words broke into my thoughts, and I was surprised to discover it was Asher who’d spoken them.
When I met his eyes, he locked me in an intense gaze, serious and sincere.
“Don’t ever doubt that,” he said, and in that moment, despite our constant sparring and all the unresolved stuff between us, I didn’t doubt it.
It seemed we’d all reached a new level of understanding. Hopefully, they’d give Liam a chance and we could all move forward with our plans.
I closed my eyes and blew out a breath, releasing the last of my frustration.
In its place, an image of Haley flickered through my mind, her once-glossy ponytail now dull and frizzy, her face smudged with dirt. She sat on a stone floor, huddled in the corner with a blonde woman I didn’t recognize. They weren’t crying, though. They seemed to be… strategizing? The blonde was sketching something on the floor with a sharp rock. A map?
“Gray?” Emilio touched my shoulder again. “You okay?”
I blinked away the vision, not sure that’s what it even was. It wasn’t as clear or strong as the one I’d seen in the flames, and it hadn’t really yielded any new information.
Just another little spark of hope. I tucked it away in my heart, keeping it close.
Hang in there, Hay. We’re coming.
“Just thinking about Haley,” I said softly.
“We’ll find her, querida. All of them.”
“Then we’ll neutralize the sonofabitch and finally put this nightmare behind us,” Asher said.
“Nightmares,” a voice echoed eerily from the living room, “are neither behind nor ahead. They are non-linear and immeasurable.”
Liam stepped out from behind the other side of the fireplace.
“They are within you,” he continued, “rooted in a scorched yet sacred place that lies beneath your deepest secrets, your darkest fears, your own eternal emptiness, a barren wasteland revisited endlessly despite every feeble attempt at escape.”
“Um.” I rose from my chair, forcing a grin. “How about some coffee, Liam? Sounds like you might need a little pick-me-up today.”
“I was merely attempting to expand the collective c
onsciousness by—”
“Dial it down, Spooky.” Asher rolled his eyes. “Your people skills are even worse than mine.”
“Perhaps we could address that at the next vote?” Liam deadpanned. “However, I understand you don’t get one. Will you be naming a proxy to vote me off the island instead?”
Asher cocked an eyebrow. “Was that… Was that another joke?”
“Indeed, demon.”
“Two jokes in less than twenty-four hours? Whatever you’re smoking, I’ll take two.”
There was an awkward pause, and then Liam cracked up, the skin around his bright blue eyes crinkling.
It was the first time I’d ever really seen him let loose like that, and when his blond hair flopped in front of his eyes, it was easy to forget that inside that vessel, he was still Death. Chaotic neutral. The Great Equalizer.
The unknown quantity.
But then he turned to me, his smile dropping away as if I’d only imagined it, and I remembered exactly who I was dealing with.
“Gray.” He held out his hand, and I could tell by the ice in his eyes he wouldn’t be taking no for an answer today. “Come. It is time.”
Eleven
GRAY
As much as I’d initially feared it, my realm was finally starting to feel familiar again. Lush and wild, different than it had been when I was a child, but still mine. Still me.
“This way,” I said, reaching for Liam’s black-gloved hand. He’d assumed his Death form here—something that seemed much more comfortable for him, especially this close to the Shadowrealm—but just like this place, his non-humanness no longer unnerved me.
The path that led to the meadow was crowded with new growth, forcing us to walk single file, carefully stepping over the flowers and ferns that clogged our way.
When the tangle of vines thinned and the clearing finally came into view, I released his hand and rushed ahead, eager to reach the white stone pedestal, its indigo light pulsing warm and bright in my memory.
I’d assumed it would be a good starting point for my lesson with Liam today, but the closer we got, the farther away the pedestal became until it simply vanished altogether.
Shocked into silence, I turned to Liam for an explanation.
“It is ever-evolving, Gray,” he said. “Now that you’ve reconnected and more fully opened yourself up to it, your magic will change to best suit your needs, guiding you first toward a deeper knowledge of Self, and then toward awareness of your place in this world and those beyond.”
“So, the pedestal—”
“Is no longer needed. It guided you here on your initial visits after many years, almost like a homing beacon. But now it’s time for something new to take its place.”
He gestured for me to look around, and I did, slowly taking in the changing landscape. In addition to the vanishing pedestal, the spring-green meadow had also begun to fade, first taking on a blue-gray hue, and then darkening as the grass retreated into the ground, revealing freshly turned earth. In its place, new growth poked through. At first, I thought it was grapevine, slowly churning up the dirt. But the vines quickly dried, transforming into dark, sharp-toothed brambles.
We continued onward, finding a grassy rise still untouched.
Liam and I sat together on the rise, my shoulder brushing against his shadowy robe as we watched the brambles twist and turn across the meadow.
The black forest surrounding us remained unchanged, its branches draped in silver tinsel, but otherwise as stark and bare as the first night I’d seen them.
The night I’d brought Bean back from the dead.
“What about that?” I asked, nodding toward the second path, a dark, narrow trail that led to the stone arch and gateway marking the entrance to the Shadowrealm.
“The Shadowrealm remains unchanged,” he said. “As ever. The two realms share a mystical border—one that remained hidden from you until your deeper powers began to manifest—but they are two different places, operating under very different metaphysical rules.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them close, fighting off a chill. “You’re going to make my head explode again, aren’t you?”
“Believe it or not,” he said, “exploding heads are a bit outside my skill set. But I will ask you to ponder the greater mysteries on occasion, if that’s okay.”
My lips curved into a smile. As much as Death was helping me explore the depths of my magic, it seemed I was helping him explore a sense of humor.
“What happens now?” I asked, rubbing the chill from my arms.
“What would you like to see happen?”
It was a big question, one with as many answers as there were stars in this otherworldly sky. But on a fundamental level, I needed to learn control.
“I’d like you to teach me how to access the magic without taking too much,” I said, thinking of the undead creatures that had attacked me and Asher. “Or too little.”
“It’s not enough to simply access the magic, Gray. You must reclaim it fully and continue to nurture it through dedicated study and practice. And you also must learn to protect yourself—from outside influences, as well as from your own.”
I understood the part about outside influences. Though I experienced the realm as a physical place, my actual body was still on earth, in a deeply meditative state that I couldn’t always control. That kind of situation left me extremely vulnerable to physical and psychic attacks, especially if anything went wrong with the shield—another aspect I hadn’t yet learned to control or call up on command.
But my own influences?
“How do I protect myself from… myself?” I asked, more confused than ever.
“I’m referring to your thoughts. Your fears and doubts, your insecurities, your resistance. Negative thoughts are pollutants, Gray, eroding this place just as they erode your confidence and spirit. They may come to you unbidden, but you must practice letting them pass. Do not nurture and encourage them. Do not actively create an environment in which those thoughts can multiply and thrive.”
I tilted my face up toward the stars, trying to take it all in. This place. His words. Everything that had happened. Everything we’d yet to face.
Everything roiling inside me.
“You’re still judging your magic—your self—as evil,” he continued, “and until you can escape that mental prison, you will never gain the control you seek.”
“I just… I don’t understand why it even exists,” I said. “Necromancy. Soul manipulation. Everything about it is unnatural.”
“It is part of you, Gray. It is you. In the simplest terms, it can’t possibly be unnatural, because you are not unnatural.”
“A lot of people would argue otherwise.”
“A lot of people would argue that hot dog carts are superior to taco trucks. Clearly, people are prone to wrongheadedness.”
Liam blinked rapidly, surprised by his own words.
“Spoken like a true Californian,” I teased. “I guess we know where Liam Colebrook was from. Sounds like some part of him is still with you.”
“I’ve never had a taco,” he said.
“So I gathered. We’ll have to make you a bucket list when we get back. Sound good?”
“I think I might like that.” Liam’s eyes brightened with an almost child-like excitement, the humanness of his vessel peeking through his otherworldly form.
But it faded quickly, and he turned to look out over the vast sea of brambles still churning before us. “There are many things in your world, Gray, that man has labeled an abomination. Yet the mere naming of a thing does not make it so.”
“Sticks and stones,” I mumbled.
“That is what you call those things, yes. But a stone is not a stone because of you, or even because of the first human who named it such. A stone is a stone because it simply is, no matter what name it was given, in what language or epoch or realm.”
“It’s… just an old saying,” I explained. “A thing they tell you in school
when you’re getting picked on—that you can be hurt with sticks and stones, but not when someone calls you a name.”
He stared at me a long moment, his eerie blue eyes seeing right through me. I wondered what he was thinking about. What he saw when he looked at me like that.
“Was it difficult for you, being a witch?” he finally asked. “Knowing you were different?”
“No, actually. I never thought about it like that. Sure, there were times I wished I could’ve told my friends at school about the real me, but I understood it wasn’t safe. Anyway, I had Calla for that. I never felt alone in it until after she…”
“And now?”
“It’s different now.” I plucked out a handful of grass, absently dropping it onto my legs—something I used to do as a kid. “Before, it felt like something special, full of potential.”
“But not anymore?”
“Not entirely, no. I still feel that potential, that good magic. But there’s something else there, too. Festering like a sickness.” Shame burned my cheeks. I knew these were exactly the kind of negative thoughts Liam had warned me about, but I couldn’t help how I felt. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I said, “It’s dark.”
I held out my palm, picturing the blue-green magic I’d conjured last night, the blend of my innate magic with that of the earth. My skin heated, then glowed, pulsing faintly before igniting in a beautiful flame that hovered just above my hand.
Gingerly I brought my other hand close, and the flame slid from one to the other. I pulled my hands apart, then pushed them together, the magic changing shape, dancing at my touch.
“Dark,” he repeated, and the flame in my hand surged briefly.
Liam held up a hand, then closed his fist, the effect like dimming the lights. The moon vanished first, allowing the stars to momentarily brighten, then they faded as well.
My magic flame flickered out last, and I closed my eyes, catching the faint echo of its glow inside my eyelids.
When the spots faded and I opened my eyes, I was bathed in a blackness so complete, I couldn’t even see my hands in front of my face.
