Shadow Sworn (Copper Falls Book 2)

by Colleen Vanderlinden

  This stubbornness regarding Marshall was a newer thing, though. “Kitten, what were you doing that day you were so late?” he asked, guessing it was related.

  She smiled then, and her entire face brightened. She gestured for him to lean in, and he did. “I made Shadow work. It did what I wanted, and I didn’t hurt anything.”

  He sat back, shocked.

  “I thought you were afraid of it,” he whispered, aware that this was something she didn’t want the warlock to hear.

  “I was. I am. But I can’t protect myself or anyone else from him if I don’t use what I have. If the witch won’t teach me, I’m going to have to do what I did with the Light: teach myself.”

  “That’s why you smelled like that,” he said, remembering how he’d jumped to the conclusion that she’d been with Marshall and was hiding what they’d, maybe, done together from him. His stomach knotted in shame. A waitress came and set their plates in front of them, fragrant venison and hearty root vegetables. He and Sophie thanked her, and then began digging into their food.

  “It’s unfortunate that it stinks. I can’t really smell it,” she said, taking a bite of what he guessed was parsnip.

  “It doesn’t stink. It just smells different from the way you usually do.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, a wry grin on her lips.

  “Seriously. You were using it again before you saw me at the resort, weren’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s a little different from him. I can smell him now, too.” A realization crossed his mind.

  “He came to my work today, too. You smelled him on me too.”

  He suppressed a growl, then nodded. “Anyway. When it’s you, it’s almost a smoky smell. Not sulfur, so much. Maybe that’s just you. Earthy.”

  “Light has left me,” she reminded him.

  “But you’re still you, babe,” he said, and was rewarded with a smile. “If Light left you, then It’s stupid and has no idea what It’s lost.”

  They ate a while in silence. The restaurant hadn’t been especially crowded, a few tables of locals, one of hunters who were clearly from out of town. It was always easy to tell. Him and Sophie, the warlock, and a few scattered men at the bar, watching a hockey game. Everything had been quiet, calm, but he could hear two of the guys at the bar arguing now, and he glanced that way. His gaze landed for just a moment on the warlock, who lifted his drink to Calder in a mocking way.

  God, he wanted to rip the asshole’s throat out.

  He glanced back at Sophie, who was watching him. “Ignore him,” she said quietly.

  “I’m trying.”

  She gave him a small smile, then took another bite of her food.

  He was about to say something to her, when an outburst rose from the group of out-of-towners. Two of the guys started yelling at one another, and that seemed to spur on the two guys at the bar who were arguing. One of the waiters got involved, and that seemed to draw in a couple more guys at the bar.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, watching as two of the hunters stood up, still shouting at one another. There was the sound of breaking glass as one of the guys at the bar threw his glass against the wall.

  The yelling got louder, more of the patrons shouting now. The rest of the hunters got involved in the fight between the first two, and the shoving started.

  Sophie was dialing her phone, and then she was quietly telling someone that there was a huge fight breaking out at Bayle’s.

  Smart woman, he thought to himself. None of the waitstaff seemed to have the sense to do it, all of them, men and women, getting involved in the arguing. The cook came out of the kitchen and got into it with one of the guys at the bar.

  It was a cacophony of shouting and rage, and his bear wanted nothing more than to get involved, to bash its way into the fray and punch it out.

  “It’s him. He’s doing it,” Sophie said, and he glanced toward the warlock, who sat, drinking his drink as if nothing was happening. He was about to respond when there was another crash from the hunters’ table.

  “That’s it. I’m sick you you telling me what to do!” one of the out-of-towners bellowed.

  Calder saw the glint of a gun as the guy reached into his coat.

  “Down, Sophie,” Calder said, leaping over the table and pulling Sophie down with him just as the first gunshots rang out. He pulled the table down in front of them, felt the unmistakable sensation of the shift beginning. His mate was in danger. That was all his bear knew, and it wouldn’t stand for that any more than he would. He shoved his clothing off just in time.

  His muscles popped. Bones lengthened, thickened, and his body became even bulkier.

  Shots continued to ring out. Semi-automatic, he realized. He had no intention of leaving Sophie. He stood over her, behind the table they’d been sitting at. There were screams now, the unmistakeable click of another magazine being loaded, and then the shooting started again.

  He should do something. He should….

  And then he noticed Sophie peeking out from behind the table at the shooter, focusing. He butted her gently with his head, and she ignored him.

  A flick of her wrist, and the shooter went flying out the front window of the restaurant. He dropped the gun as he fell through the plate glass.

  The restaurant was silent for a few moments. Calder quickly shifted back and started to dress, and that’s when the screaming started.

  He pulled Sophie up shakily. One of the waitresses was screaming. All of the guys at the hunters’ table were down, bloody. Three of the guys at the bar lay motionless, and the cook lay in a puddle of his own blood. Sophie was trembling in his arms.

  “Ah, kitten. Wasn’t enough in the end, was it?” Marshall sneered from his end of the bar, where he was still sitting, as if nothing at all had happened. He grinned, and met Calder’s gaze. “Shadow is a powerful thing. You may think you know things, little girl. You are nothing.” He took a gulp of his drink, then shrugged into his dark coat and walked out the door of the restaurant. The sounds of sirens grew louder.

  Calder and Sophie spent the next couple of hours answering questions from the police, both of them leaving out the fact that Sophie had thrown the shooter out of the restaurant with her power. They both said he jumped out, crazed, and why wouldn’t he? He was obviously nuts, after all. Neither of them could explain Marshall’s role in it all, how he had caused the man to snap, so by some silent agreement, they left that out as well.

  When they finally got into the car to drive toward home, Calder’s head was swimming. Shadow. He looked at Sophie sitting silently beside him. She hadn’t wanted to drive, so they’d left her car. She was clearly shaken. That was what Shadow did. That was what Sophie was, yet she’d used it to stop the carnage. Would she always? Or was she just not so seduced by it yet that she let it do what it wanted? Would she always be focused on life, rather than death?

  And if not, what did that mean for him? Because he knew without a doubt that he would be by her side through anything that came up, life, death, or anything else.

  Chapter Twelve

  August 19, 1870

  Migisi lay on the floor of the little house she and Luc had built together, the place they’d loved one another, the place they’d planned to raise a family. The last light of day slanted in the window, carrying with it the scent of the forest.

  Migisi found no solace in it. She panted, and whimpered. Sweat ran in rivulets down her temples, down her neck. She could feel it soaking into the cotton shirt she wore, the fabric sticking to her body as she writhed in agony.

  Her child was coming. Her baby. And something was wrong. It had been hours, and she could feel her strength fading, even as her stomach undulated with her child’s frenzied movements. She felt like she was being torn apart from the inside, each contraction making her erupt in wails of pain and frustration.

  She would lose this child. She would lose this daughter the way she’d lost all of the others, the children she and Luc had made. Even as
she cried out with the force of another contraction, her mind went back to the child she’d believed she’d successfully carried years ago, born cold and still on this very floor, Luc’s devastated face as he handed the tiny body to her.

  “No,” she whimpered as another contraction took over. The pain…Light, the pain.

  Light. She hadn’t spoken to Light in years. She nearly laughed with the ridiculousness of it all, and instead, she screamed.

  Blood gushed between her legs, turning the furs and blankets beneath her scarlet.

  “Migisi,” a voice said, a voice she knew and loved. She opened her eyes to see Luc framed in the dim light of the doorway.

  She was about to answer, when another anguished scream tore from her throat. In an instant, he was there, kneeling between her thighs, in her blood.

  “Please help. Oh, Light. Please don’t let her die,” she begged, not him specifically, but the universe in general.

  “Shh,” he soothed her. “I can see her. Be still a moment,” he said, the French, his tone, calming her almost immediately. She forced herself to be still, tears running down her face, into her ears. She tried to calm her breathing. Luc reached between her thighs, and she felt his hands there, near her daughter.

  “Her neck is wrapped in the umbilical cord,” he said quietly. “Be still. Do not push, Migisi.”

  She nodded, bit her lip hard as another contraction tore through her. She could feel him, could see him, working to free her daughter from the death-trap that was Migisi’s body.

  “This might hurt,” he said, meeting her eyes for a moment.

  “Just save her. Please,” she begged.

  He nodded, and she felt it, a hard, rough push on her agonized body, his hands in her womb, maneuvering her daughter.

  The pain. The pain was intolerable, worse than anything she’d ever felt. She screamed with it, heard him shout in desperation as the pain increased. The world went hazy, dark, and she felt herself slipping away.

  “Migisi. Migisi,” Luc said firmly. She forced herself to look at his face. “Push as soon as you’re able. She’s free.”

  Tears flowed down her face again, and with the next contraction, she pushed, and gasped in shock as her daughter came into the world, as the heaviness that had been in her womb for what had felt like an eternity left her.

  “Migisi, look,” Luc said. She lifted her head and looked between her legs. Her daughter lay in Luc’s large hands, blood and fluid everywhere. He gently turned the baby over, patted her gently on the bottom, and then Migisi heard the most glorious sound on the face of the planet: the cries of her daughter.

  Migisi wept, and Luc lay the girl on Migisi’s chest, at her breast. He helped her pull her shirt open, and in an instant, the beautiful girl, her little miracle, was feeding hungrily.

  Luc sat beside her and supported her body as she watched her daughter, his hand brushing Migisi’s wild hair back from her sweaty face.

  “You saved her,” she said hoarsely. “You saved my daughter, Luc.”

  His eyes met hers. “I have no idea why. I should have left both of you to die.”

  “But you didn’t,” she said quietly.

  His ice-blue eyes met hers. “I could not. I hate the fact that some part of me loves you still, Migisi. Do you have any idea what that is like?

  “You have married,” she said softly.

  He nodded. “And I will be faithful to my wife,” he said. “She deserves that my body will be faithful, even if my heart is not.” He paused. “It is likely witchcraft anyway. There is no sensible reason I should still care for you.”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “So you say. We’ll see how much you love me when you see what I become, thanks to you. Because that’s why I came to see you tonight. That is the one thing you can do for me, Migisi. I can protect my family from what I become. It’s you who will bear that burden, which is as it should be.”

  “I don’t—“

  “No. You don’t understand. But you will.” He stood up, looked down at her for another moment. “Do you want me to cut the cord?”

  She nodded, and he did it, quickly, and she knotted the remainder of the cord, then settled her sleepy daughter against her chest again.

  “How did you know to do all of that?” Migisi asked. She couldn’t take her eyes from her child, spellbound.

  “The same happened with my son. The midwife wasn’t strong enough to move him, so stood by and told me what to do,” he said. “I could go without having to do that ever again.”

  “There are no words, Luc. No words for how grateful I am that you came by here tonight,” she said, searching his eyes. He looked away.

  “I need to get back home,” he finally said.

  Migisi nodded and let Luc pull her up. She bit back a cry at the pain that came with standing, her body ruined, bloody, and sore. Blood ran down her thighs.

  “Do you need anything more before I leave?” he asked, watching her, and she hated for him to see her as the sweaty, bloody, sagging mess she was.

  “No. You have done more than I ever could have dreamed,” she said. “Thank you.”

  He looked at her for several long moments without saying a word. “I will see you at the full moon, Migisi. You can thank me then by making sure I don’t kill anyone.” He turned toward the door and opened it without looking back. “Congratulations on the birth of your daughter,” he said before stepping out and closing the door firmly behind him.

  Migisi slowly carried her daughter over to the pile of furs that served as her bed, in the corner of the room nearest the hearth. It was dark now, and she took a moment to light one of the lanterns. She lay on the bed and covered herself and her sleeping daughter with the light cotton blanket. She tried not to think about how badly she hurt. In honesty, it wasn’t too hard to forget about it. Every time she looked at her daughter, the pain became nothing. She slept, curled against Migisi’s breast, dark curls plastered against her tiny head. After a rest, Migisi would bathe her. For the time being, she lay, and tried to regain her strength, and marveled at the miracle that Luc helped her bring into the world. He may not be the one who planted his seed in her, but he was this child’s father just as much as her true father as far as Migisi was concerned. He had brought her into the world. The fact that he had done so stunned Migisi and filled her with wonder. He’d shown up just when she needed him most, and he hadn’t turned away from her.

  “It is an honor to meet you, little one. I have waited so long for you, my love.”

  She lay there, and watched her daughter sleep, and thanked the Mother, the Light, the Shadow, and anything else, for the man who had created this child with her, a wizard of the Light who had fallen for her at first sight. He had been a healer, and had since moved on, needed elsewhere. She would miss him, but he’d given her the most beautiful gift imaginable. And he had not shunned her for being Shadow. He’d been truly good, truly caring, and had reminded her what it was to be alive, to see the beauty in life instead of the darkness. She had changed when she was with him. Still Shadow. Still death and destruction incarnate. Still someone who could not be around others without violence happening, simply because of her presence. For a while, she had delighted in the chaos and pain she’d caused, so full of pain herself that all she wanted, all she understood, was more pain. This child’s father had made her remember what she’d once been.

  She traced her fingertips along her child’s tiny arm, down to the fist curled on her chest. She marveled at the tiny knuckles, the delicate thumbnail, the soft dimples on the back of that impossibly small hand.

  Light.

  Migisi started, nearly jumped in shock. This child was of the Light. She was like her father. She hadn’t been able to feel that when the child was inside of her because of the way Migisi’s own power obscured everything. But now, she could feel her daughter, and she was pure, beautiful Light.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said into the air. “Thank the Light,” she said as te
ars streamed down her face again. “Thank you.” She looked at her daughter again. “I shall name you Claire,” she said, thinking of the child’s two French-speaking father figures and wanting to honor them. “You are hope and Light and goodness,” she whispered.

  Then she looked up at the ceiling again. “Thank you Luc. Thank you for saving her.”

  Morning’s light dawned with Migisi bathing her daughter, washing the remainders of birth from her tiny body even as her own body contracted and bled. She wrapped Claire in a blanket, secured to Migisi’s own body and she walked into the woods. She knelt on the forest floor, and she prayed.

  She prayed to the Light, and knew that somewhere, somehow, it heard her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sophie stood in the kitchen looking out at the goat yard without really seeing it. Her three goats seemed to be standing in conference again, but she thought nothing of it. She listened to the local news station on the kitchen radio as she drank her tea.

  “Returning to a developing story, there was a deadly shooting at Bayle’s Restaurant in Copper Falls last night,” the female newscaster said in a tired voice. “After an argument, one male opened fire on other customers. Two dead, five injured. The suspect, Jason Allen, has been taken into custody by Copper Falls Police. Allen, thirty-nine, was in town on a hunting trip with four of his friends, two of whom he is alleged to have murdered last night. The group hailed from Warren, near Detroit, where Allen worked as a car salesman…”

  Sophie’s mind wandered. She’d heard the details of the shooting too many times already. She knew the names of the dead, their ages, occupations. She knew more about the shooter than she wanted to. She knew that five others were in the hospital, two of them barely clinging to life. She knew that the owners of Bayle’s had already said they were closing indefinitely, shaken by the violence that had erupted in the restaurant that had been their dream in the making.