Shadow's Soul

by Jami Gray

  “Eleven.” He set his duffle next to the long dresser, and went to lay along the top edge of the bed. He stretched out on his side above Raine, propping his head in his hand. “We’ve got almost three hours, so we have time for a caffeine fix.”

  Sprawled on her back with her eyes closed, her response was to wrinkle her nose. “If they have tea, I’ll come, otherwise, I’m not moving.”

  Unable to resist, he brushed gentle strokes over her brow where a few wisps of her hair escaped her braid, and studied the fading signs of stress. Two weeks had passed since the debacle in Arizona, the circles under her eyes were fading, but not yet completely gone, and the lines around her mouth were a bit less. Yeah, Arizona had been a hell of a trip, and they were still trying to juggle the fallout. “No falling asleep. We miss this delivery and Mulcahy will do more than chew out our asses.”

  Heaving a put upon sigh, she rolled over to her stomach and laid her head on her folded arms, her eyes drifting closed. “Who is this client anyway? Boss man wasn’t sharing names when he called me this morning.”

  He managed an awkward shrug. “Not a clue. I got the same orders as you: take this package to New Orleans and wait for a call at eleven with your meet details, deliver said package, then come home.”

  Frown lines formed on her forehead and her mouth turned down. “I hate it when he pulls this mysterious clandestine crap.”

  “You and me both.”

  “You think our client is human or Kyn?” Her lashes barely parted.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Considering Mulcahy sent both of us, I’m going with Kyn.”

  Because no way would Ryan Mulcahy, CEO of Taliesin Security, and more importantly, Captain of the Wraiths, send two highly trained warriors armed with very specialized skills, to deliver a package to a human. Nope, that kind of caution screamed Kyn. Now which kind was still in question.

  Since the Kyn consisted of all those creatures humans tried not to believe existed, their options were limitless. With the rise of technology, keeping the presence of the unexplainable hidden, was becoming a lost cause. The Fey might be able to blend in, and if the moon stayed low and soft, the Shifters could blame their mood swings on a number of things, but the half-demon throng could really tear things up, not to mention the chaos the Magi houses could create, as evidenced by their last mission. Especially if the warlocks got a little creative, and the witches were unwilling or unable to stop them. Hence the Wraiths, an elite, black-ops group of Kyn who served as a sort of Kyn police force and ran by none other than Raine’s uncle, Ryan Mulcahy.

  “What do we have down here since the Kyn population isn’t that large?”

  Leave it to his woman to hone in on the biggest threats first. “Basically a group of Vodousiants and a small shifter community, both of which make Vidis look like the life of the party.”

  That opened her eyes wide, because the Northwest Alpha wolf was even more antisocial than her. “Do you know who’s in charge?”

  He shook his head.

  She lifted her head, and propped her chin on her hands while she watched him. “You’re looking pretty pleased about something.”

  Pleased was too mild a term, more like fiercely satisfied. Since words were awkward, he opened the mental connection they shared and let her inside. The convoluted mix of his unrelenting desire, deep seated respect of her strength, lined with an appreciation of her ruthlessness, and keen, razor edged need of her, flaws and all, tumbled along their link. Raine McCord was his, just as he was hers, to the exclusion of all others.

  She blinked, long and slow, a creeping tide of color heated her skin. The pulse in the base of her neck picked up speed and the gray of her eyes went to an ashy black. She got up to her knees, crawled the few inches between them, coming closer until he fell to his back and she loomed over him with her arms on either side of his shoulders. Letting her elbows bend, she lowered until her chest brushed his and her lips were above his. He couldn’t help but lift his head to close the small distance between them. Her lips curved into a tempting smile. “Thought you wanted coffee.”

  He wrapped her braid around his hand. “This is better.”

  Her smile disappeared as he pulled her in until he could capture her mouth with his.

  A little over an hour later, at a small table tucked under a green awning, Gavin took a sip of his chicory coffee and watched Raine try to eat a beignet. She finally gave up trying to save her shirt from the powdered sugar and took a bite. Her purr of appreciation made his dick perk up, but it was time to concentrate on the business at hand. Tucked in the messenger bag strapped across Raine’s shoulder was the package they were to deliver, and judging by its shape and size, it was either a box or a book. Not that it mattered, but he enjoyed the puzzle.

  In his pocket, his phone vibrated. Setting his cup aside, he dug it out and checked the screen. “Well, damn.”

  “What?”

  He looked up to find Raine wiping her face with a paper napkin. “Our contact needs to delay our meet until tomorrow morning.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Unavoidably detained in a previous meeting.” He didn’t bother hiding his skepticism. An unexpected change in plans didn’t fit the underlying sense of urgency of this assignment. Something wasn’t lining up. “I’m going to update Mulcahy.” He calculated the time difference between Louisiana and Oregon, and punched in Mulcahy’s number.

  “Mulcahy.”

  “It’s Durand, our meet’s been postponed until tomorrow morning.”

  A taunt silence filled the line, then, “Don’t let the package out of your sight, and watch your backs.”

  Right because this was a warning they needed? “What the hell are we facing here? It’s not like you to send us in with little to no information, Taliesin doesn’t do runs like that.”

  He barely caught his boss’s sigh. “This isn’t a Taliesin run, Durand, it’s a favor.”

  “For?”

  “A very old friend.” There was no give on Mulcahy’s answer. “Keep it safe, and make sure it makes it to her hands only.”

  “Her?” he pounced on the single clue. “Got a name to go with that pronoun? We wouldn’t want to give it to the wrong lady.”

  That got a bark of a laugh. “Trust me, you won’t have a problem identifying who she is. You and McCord stay alert down there. New Orleans isn’t a place where you want to phone it in. Call me when it’s delivered.”

  There was no chance to reply as dead air filled the line. He pocketed his phone, then picked up his cooling cup of joe for another hit.

  Raine licked the sugar from her fingers. “Now what?”

  “Ever been to New Orleans before?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s your lucky night. Since our presence isn’t required until tomorrow, we have time to check out the sights.” He set his cup down, stood, pulled out a few bills and threw them on the table. “Come on, let’s walk.”

  Together they meandered through the French Quarter, dodging stumbling bar goers and costumed revelers. The further along Bourbon Street they got, the heavier the crowds became. Lively music spilled out of lit doorways and pooled onto the sidewalks. A tug on the back of his jeans, brought him to a stop outside a weathered building nestled between two brightly painted bars. He turned and Raine tilted her head towards the rundown structure.

  Light and the soft wail of a trumpet drifted through the open, wooden shutters. People milled about, most with drinks in hand. He followed her closer until she found a relatively clear spot just under a wrought iron arch. She leaned against the splintered frame, her attention focused on the jazz band playing against the back wall between two sets of French doors. With his hands on her hips, he shifted her to his front until he could lean against the doorframe. She adjusted the messenger bag and leaned back against his chest. Together they enjoyed the music.

  Eventually the band took a break. Gavin dropped a few bills in the bucket perched by the door, then Raine grabbed his hand and led h
im away.

  The narrow street was packed now, the night obviously just getting underway. She was tugging him across the street when a rambunctious group of partiers suddenly swallowed them, and her hand was jerked from his.

  For a moment, he lost sight of her among the feathered costumes, jostling bodies, and colorful masks. He shoved a manic looking jester out of his way and found her surrounded by four white masked, silk robed figures. He didn’t need the sudden riff of danger tearing across his nerve endings to act. Without hesitation he barreled forward, reaching out to grasp her arm, but then someone fell into him, knocking him back.

  A skeletal face stared into his, the macabre, painted grin raising the hair along his neck before he shoved the awkward body off with a snarl. Turning back he shouldered his way through two burly college students decorated with multi-colored strings of beads, baseball caps, and clownish sunglasses to find Raine pinning one of the robed figures to the ground. Two others stood watching her, hands raised.

  As he broke through, she twisted her head to him and snapped out, “One of these damn idiots went for my bag.” She ripped off the mask of the one in front of her and revealed a terrified face of a young man. A tight circle of onlookers formed a human curtain.

  “Lady, man! Look, I didn’t do nothing,” he babbled, his face a sickly pale color under his scraggly goatee.

  Gavin glared at the other two. “Don’t fucking move. If I have to run you down, and I will, your night will not end well.” He got dual frantic nods in return. He looked down at the one on the ground. The kid’s eyes skittered from Raine to him and back.

  “Where’d your friend go?” Raine demanded.

  “Don’t know him!” He squeaked as she lifted him by his throat. “Seriously, lady, what the fuck! Don’t know half the people out here tonight.”

  Gavin turned to the other two. “Who was he?”

  They shook their heads. He stepped around Raine and ripped each mask up, revealing a terrified young woman and another college age male. “Who was it?”

  “Don’t know, man, swear,” the other kid stammered. “We joined the group from the bar up the street.”

  He shook his head as he studied both kids who were now shaking so hard their silk robes visibly trembled. Nothing about them indicated they were lying. It was obvious by their terrified expressions he was killing their buzz. He tossed their masks at them. “Let him up, Raine.”

  She lifted her head to look at him, and there was no missing her anger. He gave a deliberate shake of his head. “Let him go, babe. These kids are drunk and stupid.” Her lip curled at his silent comment, but she released the guy on the ground and stepped back. He scrambled to his feet, stumbled to his two friends and they took off, throwing frightened looks over their shoulders as they shoved their way through people. Her hand went to the leather bag, stilled, and then her low, vicious curse filled the air. “Son of a bitch sliced the bag open.”

  “The package?” The surrounding crowd began to thin as it moved down the street.

  “Gone,” she gritted out.

  He ran a hand through his hair and scanned the area. “What am I looking for?”

  “Green hooded cloak, white mask.”

  Her description matched quite a few people. A sharp blast of a car horn snagged his attention. At the far end of the street, just beyond the crowds where traffic crawled by, two figures darted around the front end of cab. The cab’s headlights illuminated them, one in a green robe and the stark face paint of a familiar skeleton before “There!” He grabbed Raine’s hand and took off down the sidewalk.

  Together they weaved their way through people, hitting the end of the street only to find they’d lost their quarry in the twisted warren of alleys and courtyards. Still they took the time to check the various bars and shops. Tucked into a shadowed alcove, he faced Raine who had her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face. “We’re not far from our place. Let’s head back, I have an idea.”

  She huffed out a breath, but didn’t argue as they made their way back to their courtyard cottage. Connected as they were, he didn’t miss the slither of guilt under her frustration. “Shit happens, Raine, you know that. We’ll get it back.”

  “It was a stupid mistake.”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “It’s not like you can anticipate being mauled by a group of costumed drunks.”

  “Can’t you? It is New Orleans,” humor leaked through her words. She waited until they stepped into the private courtyard. “You have a plan?”

  He unlocked the door to their place and let her through first. “We’re going to do a tracking spell.” He followed her inside and made his way to the kitchen. He pulled out a small, clear glass and a box of salt. Setting it on the bar’s counter, he motioned for her to hand over the messenger bag.

  She shrugged it off and handed it over, then took a seat on one of the bar stools. He ran his hands over the leather carefully, paying close attention to the area where their pickpocket had sliced through to get the package. The edges were smooth, but on one end a small green thread was caught. “Perfect.” He pulled it free, dropped the bag to the floor, and set the lone thread on the granite top. “Grab a candle, would you?”

  She got up and went into the kitchen. Cupboards opened and banged closed behind him as he filled the glass halfway with water. “Here.” A squat white candle was set on the counter.

  He put the glass next to the candle, careful not to disturb the thread. “We need a map.”

  Together they searched the kitchen, going through cupboards and drawers until Raine called, “Got one.” She held it up. It was one of those touristy ones with the streets plainly marked and points of interests depicted in funky graphics.

  “Good enough,” he muttered and plucked up the thread. “Lay it out here,” he pointed to the counter.

  She smoothed it out, then stepped back, giving him room to work. Using his free hand he sprinkled a thin line of salt around the map’s edges, setting a border to limit his spell’s reach. Once it was complete, he brushed his fingers against his jeans to clear any remaining flecks of salt, then picked up the glass. “Light it up.”

  Raine snapped her fingers and the wick on the candle flared to life.

  He shot her a look. “Show off.”

  She blew on her fingertip as if blowing out a match, then pursed her lips into a kiss.

  He grinned. “Right, let’s see where they went.”

  The tracking spell was a simple combination of intent and magic, all focused on linking the thread to its owner. Normally, Gavin, an accomplished Fey Witch, could cast this spell between one blink and the next, but thanks to a recent run in with a mad doctor, his inherent magic made even simple spells tricky. It took a few breaths to block out his mental noise and focus on the magic running through his veins. “Lumine inuenit dominus.” Light the way, find the master. The words weren’t necessary, but helped his focus. His magic responded, eager to go to work. He throttled back, paring the energy down from rushing river to gentle stream.

  In the center of his palm, where the thread rested, a warm curl of energy rose, lining the fragile string in a soft luminesce. Holding the glass centered above the map, he tilted his hand, and let the thread fall. When it hit the water, it slowly straightened and floated on the water’s surface. It held steady, waiting for his next command. “Inuenit dominus.”

  The thread began a slow spin. Now came the hard part, finding the right direction. Like a game of hot and cold, he moved to their current location and waited, knowing the spell would only last until the residue energy on the thread ran out. Which wouldn’t be long, since there wasn’t much material to begin with. As he held the glass above their spot, the thread adjusted with a wiggle to the west and north, until it lined up with Conti St. on the map.

  Raine leaned in until their shoulders touched. “Is it pointing to the cemetery?”

  “Not sure.” He dropped the glass until the bottom skimmed the map, the thread moved, scooting near th
e cemeteries but finally stilled just above a corner of a section labeled, Iberville.

  She pulled out her phone and tapped away. “Iberville Housing Development,” she read out loud. “Nice to know we won’t have to go traipsing through a graveyard tonight.”

  A ripple ran through his makeshift compass, and the thread began to sink. The magic was done. “That’s as close as we’re going to get from here.” He dumped the water in the sink. “How far away is it?”

  “Two miles.”

  Using a towel, he brushed the salt into the sink. “Faster to go on foot than try to catch a cab.” At her noncommittal hum, he looked up to find her biting her lower lip. “What?”

  “Who’s calling Mulcahy?”

  He grimaced. Not a call he wanted to make any time soon. “Let’s wait until we have something to actually share.”

  “Aw, Gavin,” she drawled as he came to her side. “Are you scared of our boss?”

  Wrapping an arm around her waist he dragged her in close and nipped her lip in retaliation. “Only a fool wouldn’t be scared of Mulcahy, and babe, that’s one thing I’m not.” Unable to resist, he gave her a quick slap on her ass as he ushered her out the door. “Let’s move out. Who knows how long our thieves will stick around.”

  Using Raine’s phone to map their route, they made it to the housing development just under the fifteen-minute mark. Problem was the development covered ten blocks and was surrounded on two sides by cemeteries. Standing across the street from a squat building proclaiming to have seafood and groceries, Gavin checked out the neighborhood. Beyond the haphazard metal fence, red brick structures hunkered in the darkness, the snap and cracks of torn plastic providing minimal coverage of the gaping maws of missing windows. Badly cracked roads snaked through the neighborhood, luring the unwary deeper into the dark.

  Next to him, Raine blew out a breath. “Got any idea of where we want to start?”

  “West and north.” He jogged across the street, moving away from the cemetery, knowing she’d follow. As they slipped down the streets, a clear demarcation evolved. The newer construction was marching in from the outside edges. Further in, cars were huddled like metallic dogs outside the red brick, two story structures where lights shone from behind blankets and blinds. A strange miasma of spice, piss, and choking dampness pervaded the place. Sprinkled in-between were heavily shadowed buildings rife with the sense of abandonment. Stopping next to a tree, he scanned the darkness as faint bursts of TV’s and conversations punctuated the night. First things first, determining who they were chasing. “What do you think the package was?”