The Shadow Deception: The Shadow Enforcer Series Book Two

by N M Thorn

  She lifted her head and took his hand, her slender fingers squeezing his. Without saying a word, she pulled him toward the master bathroom. Flipping the light switch on, she moved a small vanity stool from under the counter and opened the faucet.

  “Sit,” she said, gesturing at the stool.

  He sat down, and just now, he started to feel how truly drained he was. Partially healed injuries and bruises ached, and his muscles were so sore that he doubted he could hold his head upright. With a soft groan, he leaned his back against the counter and dropped his hands in his lap. She made sure the water was warm enough and put a small hand towel under the stream.

  Then she took his chin and gently lifted his head. Pushing back the dirty strands of hair from his face, she proceeded with cleaning the partially healed wounds on his face, the strokes of her towel careful but precise and fast. After a while, she ripped his destroyed tank top off, throwing it on the floor, and proceeded with cleaning the wounds on his shoulders, chest and back. He closed his eyes, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a blissful smile as he enjoyed the treatment despite the occasional stings of pain.

  Suddenly, she stopped what she was doing, and he opened his eyes, almost unwillingly, just to see River’s blue eyes right in front of his.

  “You’re smiling,” she whispered in disbelief, the warmth of her breath brushing his skin. “You have to be in pain, but you’re smiling.” Her fingers probed his bruised ribs, and he hissed, wincing. “Your ribs are probably broken, but you still look blissfully happy.”

  “Broken ribs? It’s nothing. I know how to control physical pain, and I can self-heal,” he replied. “I’m just too exhausted physically and drained magically to perform any kind of healing magic right now. I need a little rest before I can do it.” He gazed at her and took a deep breath, feeling warm and content. “Just a little while ago, the Slavic goddess of Nightmares told me that I have no happy memories. I think I do now.”

  She straightened, her eyes sparkling with wonderment. “Dima, I drove Cole crazy with my questions about you and your past. I wasn’t nosy. All I wanted was to understand you better, so I could be there for you.” She threw the dirty towel into the sink and laughed softly. “I think you’re still an enigma to me.”

  She pressed her hand to his scarred cheek, caressing his skin with her thumb. He placed his hand over hers and closed his eyes again, leaning against her palm. She bent forward slightly and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. Then her lips moved down his cheek, leaving a trail of tiny kisses that set his skin on fire.

  “If we can’t be anything more than friends, I accept that. I just want you to know that I’m ready to spend the rest of my short human life unraveling the mystery that you are, Damian Blake,” she whispered, covering his lips with hers.

  Damian wrapped his arms around River’s waist, pulling her closer.

  The Destiny Enforcers’ rules be damned…

  Epilogue

  ~ Damian Blake ~

  Blue Creek, Paradise Manor.

  One month later.

  The sound of metal clashing against metal rang through the desert. Cole laughed, easily deflecting Atticus’ vigorous attack. The young werewolf was partially transformed, and Cole didn’t use his vampiric strength and speed, yet the vampire had no problem holding Atticus at arm’s length. He toyed with him like a cat with a mouse, dancing circles around him within a small amphitheater surrounded by boulders and rock formations. Damian sat on the ground with his back rested against a large rock, watching his brother having fun.

  A few minutes later, Atticus stopped and dropped his sword, raising his hands.

  “I give up,” he panted, sweat running down his flushed face. He dropped next to Damian, laughing. “I need a few minutes of rest. I’m fast. I’m strong. But he is—”

  “He’s an ancient vampire who’s practiced swordsmanship since he was six years old,” Damian interrupted, tapping the werewolf on his knee. “And you’re what? Fifteen?”

  Atticus snorted. “I’m twenty-five, dude, come on!”

  Damian got up, shaking the red-orange sand off his pants. “You’re using your sword as if it is an oversized screwdriver in your father’s machine shop. You have a lot to learn, and if you’re serious about it, Cole is the best teacher you can wish for.”

  He held out his arms, and his daggers materialized in his hands, responding to his mental command.

  “Whoa,” exhaled Atticus, staring at the shining blades in Damian’s hands in awe. “How do you do it? I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “A Destiny Enforcer’s weapons—daggers, in my case,” he replied, offering one of his daggers to the werewolf. “After the training is complete, every Destiny Enforcer has to choose a weapon. Powerful wizards, who work only for the Destiny Council and never leave their realm, bind the Enforcer with the weapon of their choice. The daggers respond to my mental commands, and I can never lose them.”

  He snapped his fingers, and the dagger vanished from Atticus’ hands, materializing back in his. Turning to his brother, Damian lifted his blades. “Care for a round?” he asked.

  Cole assumed a guarding stance, flicking his eyebrow at him. “No Destiny Enforcer powers and earthquakes?”

  “No vampire speed and strength?” retorted Damian, excitement spiking adrenalin in his system.

  “Feeling lucky today?” Cole laughed.

  Instead of answering, Damian glanced back at Atticus. “Watch and learn. Cole is an ancient vamp,” he said, switching his attention back to his brother. “It means he is faster than you and stronger than you. You can’t beat him at that. Even partially transformed, you’re still slower and weaker. The only way you can beat him is by outsmarting him.”

  “Which is impossible.” Cole laughed, starting with a powerful frontal attack.

  Knowing Cole’s fighting tactics, Damian was ready. He sidestepped him, forcing his brother to switch his position. Then he moved forward so quickly and forcefully that Cole had no choice but to take a few steps back, almost hitting a large boulder. The vampire pulled to the side, moving along the length of the rock, but Damian didn’t stop. Cole increased his speed, his blade a silvery blur, but forced into the narrow space between two rocks, his maneuverability was severely limited.

  Damian pressed forward, locking his brother in, and the only thing separating his daggers from his brother’s throat was the shining blade of Cole’s sword. Cole growled, and despite his effort to contain his nature, his eyes lit up with a bright, scarlet light and his fangs expanded. At the same time, his sword ignited with a slightly reddish glow of unusual magical energy. Damian gasped, staring at his brother in shock, and lowered his daggers, taking a step back.

  “I told you,” murmured Cole, sheathing his sword. He walked back to where Atticus sat and lowered next to him. Looking up at Damian, he added, “Dima, Yakov wanted to run some tests on me, remember?”

  “Yes.” Damian nodded, a heavy knot twisting in the pit of his stomach.

  “I want him to do it.” Cole bit his lip, staring into the evening desert, his fingers fidgeting with a small, dry branch. “I need to understand what’s going on with me. Vampires are not supposed to have magic.”

  “You’re probably right.” Damian massaged his temples, feeling a nagging headache of a summoning spell originating somewhere behind his eyes. “Speaking of the devil…”

  He got up and channeled his magic, drawing a rune in the air. Pressing his palm to it, he activated the rune, and a heartbeat later, it was replaced by the oval of a communication window. Yakov Bruce looked at them through the window, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. His clothes looked like they’d seen better days and needed either a good laundry or a convenient garbage can. His long hair was in disarray, and his chin was covered in an overgrown stubble.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” he said, running his hands over the front of his button-down shirt in a futile effort to smooth out the wrinkles. “I came here straight from”—he twirled his wri
st, a mischievous grin appearing on his face—“wherever I was. I didn’t bother to take a shower and change because I wanted to see you first, Commander. I’m at Paradise Manor with the beautiful Ms. River. Can you come home now? I promise it’s not going to take long.”

  “I’ll see you in a minute,” Damian replied and closed the communication window. Turning to Atticus, he asked, “Do you want to come with us or return to Hawk’s ranch.”

  Atticus got up, rubbing the back of his neck. “While it’s been fun getting my ass kicked, it’s getting late, and I had better go back home before my father has something to say about it.” A guilty smile crossed his face, and he pointed to the west where the last rays of the setting sun colored the desert with their pink shades. He turned to Cole and offered his hand. “Thank you, Majesty. I hope we can do it again sometime. I really want to learn and improve my sword skills.”

  “Any time,” replied Cole, squeezing his hand in a handshake. “Let’s just keep our lessons away from my Court or my company.” He winked, giving a quick tap on the young werewolf’s shoulder.

  Damian moved his hand and a portal shimmering with rotating blue and white sparkles opened in front of him.

  “It’ll take you to the gates of your father’s property,” he explained, shaking Atticus’ hand. “Say hello to Hawk. I’ll try to stop by sometime next week.”

  As Atticus walked through the portal, disappearing on the other side, Damian closed it and placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “The fun is over,” he said. “Let’s see what the old eagle brought on his wings.” He snapped his fingers, and they vanished from the desert.

  Damian and Cole materialized in front of the entrance into Paradise Manor and headed straight for the kitchen. Since the time when Damian moved into this large mansion, the kitchen had become one of his favorite places. Early in the morning, while everyone was still asleep, he liked to sit down with a cup of hot coffee in his hand, watching the sun slowly rise over the desert. It was a beautiful view that never failed to give him a feeling of peace and a sense of belonging.

  River sat at the table, her face flushed from laughing, and Yakov stood in front of her, telling her something animatedly. As soon as Damian and Cole walked in, he stopped talking and turned to them, inclining his head in a light bow.

  “Commander Blake, Your Majesty,” he greeted them, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips.

  “Yeah, right,” murmured Cole, making his way to the table.

  “I thought you weren’t into the medieval formalities of the World of Magic,” said Damian, shaking the wizard’s hand.

  “I’m not.” Yakov sat down, crossing his legs, and shrugged. “Just seemed like the appropriate thing to do.” He glanced at Cole and cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. “Changed your mind, eh?”

  Cole’s jaw dropped, and he exchanged a bewildered glance with Damian. Reaching behind his back, he unsheathed his sword and placed it on the table in front of Yakov.

  “A while ago, I told you that I developed some extra sensitivity to magical energy,” said Cole, his fingers running over the red stone embedded into the pommel of his sword.

  “I remember,” replied Yakov calmly. “At the time, I thought it wasn’t something common to your kind. But it’s not unheard of for an old vampire to develop some… eh… unusual talents. So, I thought it had something to do with your age. Also, since your brother is a Child of Earth, it’s possible you may have magical gifts, too, but they had been suppressed when you were turned.” He thought for a second, scratching the back of his head. “What happened, Cole? Something had to trigger this conversation.”

  “He wields magical energy, Yakov,” replied Damian. “I saw it with my own eyes, and as a Destiny Enforcer I can attest, it was the real deal. The energy was emitted by his body and channeled through the sword. It was so powerful, I could see it without opening my second sight—a scarlet glow.”

  “The sword, eh?” Yakov took the weapon, holding it flat on the palms of his hands.

  He closed his eyes, and the magical energy field spiked around him. The sword rose a few inches in the air, a sparkling blue mist surrounding it like a shimmering, see-through veil. A few seconds later, the mist dissipated, and the sword lowered into Yakov’s hands. He pressed the red stone of the pommel to his forehead, whispering something, and a dim light ignited within the gem.

  “Curious…” Yakov gave the sword back to Cole. “Inclusions of Ardenium steel and a gem in the pommel… This weapon is not a mundane sword. It has magical properties, and I believe this stone”—he pointed at the gem—“is special. I don’t recognize its magical energy signature since it seems to be partially suppressed by the Ardenium steel, but I don’t recommend removing it from its settings. I believe this stone allows Cole to channel magic. Possibly, I’m mistaken, but I can’t be sure until I run a few tests on this weapon and Cole himself.” He glanced at the vampire, two deep wrinkles crossing his forehead. “Where did you get this sword?”

  “A gift from my maker,” replied Cole, his face paler than usual. “I’ve had it for centuries, but I could never channel or detect any magical energy before. It can’t be the sword.”

  “Yes, it can.” Yakov got up and started pacing the small area in front of the table. “It can, I have no doubt. Something had to trigger the change, and unless we know the history of this weapon and the origin of this red stone, we can’t be sure of anything. Is your maker still alive, Cole?”

  “I hope so.” Cole averted his gaze, a muscle working in his tightly pressed jaw. “He’s been missing for a while, and I’ve been trying to find him all this time.”

  “Find him.” Yakov drummed the table with his fingers, his eyes going out of focus for a heartbeat. “I will run some tests, but it would be a lot safer and easier if we could speak with your maker. What is his name, by the way?”

  “Ruslan,” replied Cole.

  Yakov froze in place, and his jaw slacked as he stared at Cole with wide-open eyes. “Ruslan,” he whispered, all color draining off his face. “Your maker is one of the oldest vampires who walks this realm.”

  “He’s not the oldest.” Cole shrugged.

  “I know,” replied Yakov dryly, switching his attention to Damian. “Commander, you need to find Ruslan. Cole would have known if his maker was dead, so I don’t doubt for a second he’s alive. As far as the Destiny Council’s and Wardens’ Archives recorded, over thousands of years of his life, Ruslan sired only one child”—he jerked his chin at Cole—“and he would never abandon his only child without saying a word. It means something or someone is holding him against his will.” He shook his head, a dark shadow crossing his features. “It can’t be good… It can’t be good. Dammit!” He slammed his fist on the table, spilling the coffee. “Whoever holds him must be extremely powerful. You must find and free Ruslan as soon as possible.”

  Without saying another word, he headed toward the door, muttering something under his breath absentmindedly. But then he halted in the doorway and turned around, bowing to River slightly.

  “I’m sorry, Detective,” he said, pressing his hand to his heart. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I must leave. I need to process this new information and do some research as soon as possible.”

  “No problem, Yakov,” replied River with a soft smile. “You’re welcome here at any time. I hope to see you soon.”

  “Hold on, Yakov.” Damian raised his hand to attract the wizard’s attention. “Do you have anything on Koschei’s whereabouts or anything on where he keeps his death?”

  Yakov slapped his forehead with his hand, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, Commander, with this latest revelation, I almost forgot why I came here in the first place.” He threw his hands up and made his way back to Damian. “I’ve spent a full month trying to trace this old monster, but it seems like he’s in hiding and unless he makes a move, we won’t be able to trace his location. However, I placed a few”—he twirled his hand, gazing heavenward—“magical traps f
or the lack of a better word in the realm of humans and all accessible magical nexuses. Should he make a move, we’ll know right away.”

  “Thank you,” said Damian. “I guess it’s better than nothing. Keep me updated on your research.”

  Yakov nodded, but then a wide grin, which seemed completely inappropriate in the tense atmosphere of the room, split his face. He grabbed Damian’s wrist, and a soft wave of magical energy surged from his palm, quickly spreading through Damian’s body.

  “I have a gift for you, Commander…” the old wizard murmured, sending more and more of his magic through Damian. “I believe you need it.”

  Damian sucked in a sharp breath that sounded almost like a gasp, feeling as though his right arm was on fire. The pain grew sharper, spreading through his chest, moving steadily up toward his head. He gritted his teeth, and his hands clenched into tight fists, but he couldn’t allow himself to scream in front of River in fear of scaring her.

  “Wow, yours looks beautiful…”

  Damian heard Yakov’s voice through the fog of pain in his mind and opened his watering eyes, feeling slightly unsteady and lightheaded. The pain slowly vanished, and he exhaled, realizing that he had been holding his breath all this time.

  “Take a look.” Yakov released Damian’s wrist and pointed at his arm.

  Damian peered at his arm, and his eyebrows rose. An intricate tattoo covered the entire area of his arm, starting from his wrist to the middle of his bicep. Complicated symbols, runes and words in Dragon tongue he didn’t recognize entwined with thorny vines crossed his skin in a beautiful design.

  “What the hell did you do, Yakov? What is the meaning of this? And what in the world made you think I needed it?” he whispered. “I never wanted a tattoo. I like my body the way it is—clean and natural.”

  “There is nothing natural about your thousand-year-old body, Commander,” Yakov huffed, heading toward the door. He stopped there and threw his hands up, shaking his head. “As I said earlier, Destiny Enforcers—ignorant in everything other than combat magic. When the time comes to face your next formidable foe—Koschei, for instance—you’ll be happy I gave you this tattoo.”