Shadow's Soul

by Jami Gray

  “Raine! Damn it, stop it!” Gavin’s voice came from above her and sounded hoarse.

  She blinked until his face came into focus, only then recognizing she was on the ground with something heavy lying over her. She went to move her arms, but they didn’t budge. At her wrists a pressure tightened and the heavy blanket moved. Her body recognized Gavin’s, and the instinctive struggles stopped, her muscles relaxing as he held her still.

  In the sudden quiet, only the harsh sound of heavy breathing filled her ears. The fierce angles of his face closed in as he leaned forward until all she saw was the jade green of his eyes. “Are you done?”

  His question feathered across her lips, sparking the ever-present burn. She couldn’t stop instinctive arch as the feel of him, hard and heavy, sent desire spiraling through her nerve endings.

  His eyes burned with an answering hunger as he settled deeper into her. “Not the right time.”

  She stifled her inappropriate moan, shocked at how fast the situation changed. Closing her eyes didn’t help, it only sharpened the feel of him. She fought her body’s responses reaching for the clarity needed to analyze what happened. Heartbeats passed, but she managed to lock her reactions into familiar prisons so logic could filter through. An instinctive dread made her stomach pitch, but she lowered her shields to face what she created.

  The geas Tala laid was still there. There was no breaking the binding requirement of Cheveyo’s health for her life. The geas’ tendrils that once latched onto her bond with Gavin were gone. She followed the energy, and her relief sputtered and died.

  Oh shit! Stunned, she stared at the signatures now trailing from Cheveyo, to her and back into Tala’s healing magic.

  Her eyes snapped open as her blood congealed in her veins, leaving her shaky and cold. She managed to turn a magi’s magic back on itself. Something only another magi should be able to do.

  “There are those individuals who can see magic, and then there are those very rare individuals that can not only see magic, but change it.” Tala’s earlier words came back with a vengeance, and panic clawed under Raine’s skin.

  No, no, no—she couldn’t change magic. It wasn’t possible. But the inescapable reality stared grimly back.

  A soft whimper escaped and Gavin pulled back, a frown turning his lips down. “What is it?” His question filtered through their mental connection.

  She scrambled to conceal what she had done, and the need to hide translated into a frantic twist of her hips, a desperate attempt to dislodge him. Tugging against his hold on her wrists proved equally futile.

  He was having none of it. Before she could get her mental blocks in place he was inside and she cringed as he studied the undulating magic.

  What had she done? This wasn’t natural. She knew better than to let her darker urges free. When the geas locked onto the connection between her and the man she loved, unreasonable fear broke her normal steely control. It didn’t matter that it shouldn’t be possible to do—the driving need to stop the threat from dragging Gavin into the madness surrounding her dominated.

  She couldn’t feel Gavin’s reactions, and she didn’t dare reach out. He demanded honesty in all things from her, and right now, he wasn’t giving her much of a choice. So she waited. Waited for him to put as much distance between them as he could. Because once Tala realized what Raine had done, Raine would become the hunted.

  Raine had been a Wraith too long not to understand what would happen next. Tala would identify Raine as a threat, rightly so, since this would prove that Raine could manipulate magic and turn it back on the caster. It wouldn’t matter that Raine couldn’t repeat her actions. Once Tala shared the news, there would be no protection from the Kyn leaders.

  Raine had no intentions of dragging Gavin down with her. Desperation beat through her as she reached out to the bonds she shared with Gavin. It didn’t matter if her heart was shattering under the knowledge that she’d be alone once again. She should’ve known better than to try to claim someone as hers. Monsters didn’t get happily-ever-afters.

  Before she could touch the magic, a hand snatched her metaphoric wrist and jerked her around. Gavin’s jaw was tight as he glowered at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Keeping you safe.”

  “For the gods’ sake, Raine, dramatic much?” Exasperation echoed through their link. “Snap out of it.”

  His harsh words held her still. “I’m not letting them hunt you down.”

  He gave her a short shake. “Stop being so melodramatic. No one’s hunting anyone down.” He spun her back to the magic and what she saw left her knees weak. “Did you forget what I can do?” His magic overlay the geas, the small telling irregularities visible only to her. It edged through the spell, erasing the visual line to Tala. Illusion.

  “But—”

  “You are the only one who can see magic. Think about it.” His mental voice was hard. “If they can’t see it, they can’t prove it.” He spun her around to face him, and she held onto his upper arms. “We’re going to kill the Stealer and get Cheveyo’s magic back. The geas will be broken and she’ll never know it was tied back to her.”

  “Unless we fail.”

  “We won’t.”

  She thought about it, really thought it about. It might work. The geas would demand she fulfill the spell’s requirements, but the link to Cheveyo and Tala wouldn’t be felt unless the Stealer killed her. In which case, it wouldn’t really matter would it? Cautious relief flowed through her.

  “Okay, okay—” Her words were cut short when he kissed her. She expected a fierce demanding hunger to compliment his frustration, instead he took his time with a gentle exploration. He sipped from her lips, his hands framing her face with an exquisite tenderness she didn’t understand. His touch soothed the ragged edges of panic, and replaced it with desire and love.

  She dragged him closer with one hand fisted in his T-shirt, the other tangled in his silky hair. Wanting to crawl inside the haven he offered, she pressed against him, opening to him, his tongue stroking along hers in a gentle enticement. She let her fears and worry dissipate as her body began to burn in earnest.

  He drew back and nipped along her chin. “We have to go back or Tala’s going to wonder what were up to.”

  She gave a small nod and let him pull them both back into the waking world.

  Lifting her lashes, she brushed her hand lightly along the side of his face. He turned and pressed a kiss into her palm. Her fingers curled around the small piece of heat.

  “You ready to get up?” The rumble of his voice vibrated against her chest.

  She gave a slow blink as their surroundings penetrated the haze of desire—the firm press of the floor into her spine, Ash’s low resonating growls from above, and the harsh breathing of someone else. Yep, they were back in the real world.

  Gavin released her wrists and pushed himself up.

  She lay there for a moment trying to regain her equilibrium. Taking a deep breath, she rolled over and got to her hands and knees. Her head protested the movement and she choked back her groan. Ash’s continuing warnings were getting on her nerves, adding to her rising resentment. She knew better than to trust someone like Tala. Lifting her head she let her leopard lead and sent a savage growl at Ash. His rumbles stopped, but she didn’t drop her gaze from the amber-eyed wolf. Tension sang through the silence.

  Tala tucked her hand into Ash’s ruff, breaking the staring contest. Raine pushed to her feet. They didn’t have time for this crap. Once upright, she met Tala’s gaze. The witch’s chin lifted in defiance, arrogance drawn close like a cloak.

  Raine gave her a cold smile. When Tala couldn’t completely hide her flinch, Raine’s smile widened.

  “We’re leaving.” Gavin’s announcement cut through the room. His hand latched on to Raine’s arm and steered her to the door.

  Tala didn’t say a word.

  Sunlight warmed the edges of the winter-chilled air as Gavin and Raine pulled into t
he dirt drive of Nati Alcaina’s house, one of a handful of manufactured homes scattered among the pines lining the back road located north of town. They parked behind a battered compact sitting off to the side. The echo of their car doors reverberated through the quiet morning. Considering the scenery, Raine expected the inevitable greeting of barking dogs or, gods forbid, chickens, to round the corner of the house. Instead, only the song of the breeze dancing over leaves could be heard. The underlying scent of wood-smoke accompanied the crunch of gravel under their feet.

  Reaching the cement steps leading to the screen door, she slowed and stopped. Something skittered along her spine in an undecipherable warning.

  Gavin stopped short. “What?”

  “I’m not sure.” She scanned her surroundings.

  He touched her hand. “Your blade is out.”

  She looked down, frowning. Sure enough whatever triggered her internal alarms was strong enough to have her unconsciously dropping a wrist blade into her palm. Her hand tightened on the blade as she looked around.

  Through the winter-bare trees a thin wisp of smoke trailed up from another home. Nothing lurked in the early morning shadows. Sunlight sparkled across the light layer of snow lying farther back from Nati’s home.

  “I can’t put my finger on it,” she muttered.

  Gavin sent his magic questing out. Like the heat of a warm summer afternoon, his power flowed over her, rolling over the area in a silent wave. It took only moments before he drew it back, his magic’s warmth replaced by winter’s breath leaving goosebumps rushing over her skin. “Wards.”

  She tilted her head. “Those are some damn weird wards. Creepy.”

  A grin flashed before he turned and headed up the stairs. “What did you expect for a necromancer?” He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, making the screen door rattle. “At least she’s not using ghosts.”

  She stopped in mid-step. “Ghosts?”

  As they waited for Nati to answer, he gave her a casual shrug. “Some necromancers like using ghosts as their personal warning systems.”

  She came up beside him on the small porch. Thinking of the chindis, she could see the appeal of using ghosts as your own personal security system. “Gives a whole new meaning to silent alarms.”

  He laughed. As they waited, she put away her blade. There was no sound of movement from inside. She shifted her weight. “No one seems to be home.”

  “Car’s here,” he noted before rapping on the doorframe, He followed that with ringing the doorbell. The monotone bell echoed through the house.

  Her earlier uneasiness crawled back. “Something’s not right.”

  Instead of answering, he grasped the screen door’s handle. It swung open on squeaky hinges.

  The sense of disquiet rose until it raked its nails over her internal chalkboard, drawing her nerves taunt. Once again, a blade slipped into her palm.

  Picking up on her uneasiness, he put the screen door to his back, holding it open. She stayed to the side and moved forward. Her hand hovered over the doorknob. Watching him, she caught the dull glint of a blade in his hand. He gave her a short nod. She wrenched the knob, breaking the flimsy locking mechanism, and pushed it open.

  As the morning breeze flitted through the ominously silent opening, the smell hit first—a coppery scent of blood. The heavy odor was so thick it lay like a metallic film in her mouth leaving her fighting not to gag. She tried to make out details in the dim interior, but there wasn’t enough light. She didn’t want to go in and see what was behind the sickening stench. Ignoring her body’s reluctance, she forced herself to step forward, only to be jerked to a stop by Gavin’s grip on her arm.

  “Stop,” he hissed. “Don’t forget the damn wards.”

  Right, because the last thing they needed was another surprise attack. Switching places, she held the screen door open while he crouched at the threshold. The warmth of his magic played along the edge of her awareness as she kept an eye on their surroundings.

  The edgy prickle of the wards dissolved in minutes, lending evidence to his warding expertise. He straightened and stepped cautiously inside the small house.

  Using one hand to keep the squeaky screen door from slamming shut, she followed him in. His tall shadow moved through the dimness as he picked his way through the disaster that was the living room. Overturned and broken furniture littered the space.

  Something was piled in the center. She had a sinking suspicion of what, or more accurately, who it was. Unfortunately they needed to clear the rest of the house before confirming her suspicions. She’d be surprised if whatever was behind this destruction was still around, but better safe than sorry.

  It didn’t take them long—the house was small. The fight was contained to the living room, the rest of the home eerily untouched by the raging violence. When they were sure they were alone, Raine called up the soft fey light to hover over her shoulder.

  Gavin crouched in the remains of the living room, studying the red ruin of what had once been a person.

  Picking her way carefully through the blood stained mish-mash of splintered wood, gutted cushions, and shattered multi-colored glass, Raine’s attention stayed on her feet instead of what waited when she stopped. “Is it Nati?”

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  Her foot landed awkwardly on what use to be part of a leather couch and she stumbled. Only Gavin’s quick reflexes and firm grip kept her from face planting into the gory mess of the necromancer. She tightened her hand on his, grateful for his support. Not letting him go, she folded into a crouch and processed what lay before her.

  Under the fey light, the blood was almost black. It painted the remains of the furniture. She looked around and found it on the walls and ceiling, as if a mad artist had flung his paintbrush in some wild arc. Dragging her gaze away from the horrific canvas, she studied the body. At first she thought Nati had been pierced through by the broken wood of the furniture. Yet the more she studied the corpse, the more she realized that what she was seeing was bone—Nati’s bones—snapped like fragile sticks, the edges ragged and splintered.

  Pity spiked but she pushed it ruthlessly down. Now was not the time for emotions. First, they needed to figure out what happened. Nati had been young, maybe early thirties or so. Her hair short, the color hard to determine as her blood left it dyed in a dark, sticky mess. She had been crawling away from whatever tore her apart when she died.

  “It played with her,” Raine muttered, taking in the deep gouges running from shoulder to mid-thigh. Deep enough to injure, but not to kill. There was something strange about the marks though. Something floating just outside her grasp. Using Gavin’s grip for balance, she leaned forward and traced above the marks. “Claws?”

  “I think so.” He untangled his fingers, tilted his head and shuffled a little to the side, being careful to stay clear of the body and blood as he leaned forward, balancing on his fingertips. “That’s not what killed her though.”

  From her angle, she couldn’t see what he saw. “What do you mean?”

  He rocked back on his heels, his eyes dark and serious. “If you look at the edges of these marks, they were made from the inside out.”

  “Lord and Lady,” she breathed, seeing it now that he pointed it out. The flesh on the edges of Nati’s wounds were turned the wrong way. When someone was gouged or clawed, the edges of their wounds curled in under the pressure of the claws. Nati’s were curled away, as if what had made the marks had gouged its way out of her body.

  Looking at the broken bones she found the same signs in the splintered edges of bone. They, too, had been snapped from the inside. Trepidation burst into ugly life. If the Stealer could do this to Nati, it meant Xander was in deep shit. “We injured the Stealer. How did it get this strong?”

  “It wasn’t the Stealer.”

  The absolute certainty in his voice pulled her up short. Crouched over the sickening remains of the necromancer, she stared at him.

  “Think about it.” His voice was
harsh, rough. “Nati was a necromancer.”

  She dragged the mental pieces together. Necromancers raised and communed with ghosts. Really strong necro’s could do one better. They could raise and commune with the actual spirits. Ghosts were the memories of an individual energy. Spirits contained some part of the actual person, making them much more…alive…for want of a better word, than ghosts. Raine was missing something, because she couldn’t see where he was going and told him as much.

  “Do you know how necromancers communicate with ghosts?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “They act as the conduit.” Gavin watched her closely. “What if Nati was asked to raise a ghost that was stronger than she expected? Where would it be trapped?”

  Sickening horror blossomed. “Inside her.”

  “Right.” His jaw tightened. “Considering the prevailing prejudice toward the demons, who’s to say that Jenny or Lizbeth didn’t come to Nati first?”

  “But why wait to kill her then? Why take her out first?”

  “Because until we showed up, Nati wouldn’t have been a threat.”

  The puzzle pieces fell into place. Until Tala brought in Cheveyo, the deaths were contained to the magi’s House, and could easily be viewed as a personal vendetta against the witches and wizards. Ransom and his partner could then exploit the division between Houses, fracturing the Southwest Kyn. With Cheveyo’s arrival, the partners panicked and attacked the Northwest Magi, never considering how such a threat would be answered.

  Once Gavin and Xander entered the picture, their presence sent Ransom and his partner scrambling, trying to snip loose ends before the Wraiths could get to them. When Gavin and Raine called Ransom for the meeting, the more powerful partner set the chindis loose, guaranteeing Ransom wouldn’t break under their questioning.

  “How long has she been dead?”

  “No more than a day.”

  Nati was another loose end. Only four people were even aware of Gavin, Raine, and Xander’s investigation. Tala, Rio, Tomás, and Lizbeth. Whoever Ransom’s partner was, they had power, which meant…