Descended from Shadows: Book of Sindal Book One

by D. G. Swank

  My mind reeled, my breath came in short pants. We knew nothing about this. All those years, the Council had been watching us, and we’d had no clue. No, not the Small Council—Brandon had claimed she’d forgotten about us—the Protective Force. Then an even more horrifying thought struck me.

  I’d been naked out there.

  “Your skinwalker work is beautiful,” he added matter-of-factly but with a hint of admiration. “If I hadn’t detected the spellwork, I would never have guessed that deer was you. It was flawless.”

  “Shut up,” I hissed, raising my hand to silence him. I had to process what I’d just learned. I needed out of this car now. My eyes flicked to the dashboard clock. We’d been on the road for an hour.

  As if reading my thoughts, Rowan said, “We’ll be off the freeway in a few minutes.”

  I knew he was trying to trip me up, thinking I’d give him something on Celeste. I took a deep cleansing breath. I’d deal with him later.

  Because I definitely planned to deal with him later.

  Rowan was usually more outspoken than I was, quicker to snap and criticize. Even though she hadn’t responded to him at all, even with a look, I could tell from the way her fingers drummed against the steering wheel that every word had weighed on her. And, knowing her, she was likely pissed that Brandon had seen me naked.

  “Look,” he said as we pulled off the highway, breaking the blessed silence that had lasted for several minutes. “I can help you. I want to help you. It’s my job, obviously, but… I don’t think this is your fault. It’s obvious that Celeste needs help. I’m not trying to be cocky, I swear.”

  I swiveled toward the back seat to give him some serious side-eye. My hands gripped the seat back, partly to steady myself on the bumpy country roads, partly to keep myself from punching him. He was trying to sound convincing, but I didn’t buy a word of it. The question was should I blast him for spouting BS or pretend to go along? I wasn’t so sure being antagonistic was in our best interest, but I couldn’t bring myself to suck up to him either.

  “I believe your connection to your sister is the key to finding her,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. Lucia had said pretty much the same thing, but coming from him, I couldn’t help but be suspicious.

  When neither of us responded, he said, “And my spell-tracking skills are, frankly, unparalleled. It’s part of what got me that seat on Small Council. They sent me with you two for a reason, and believe it or not, it’s not because they think I’m as annoying as you do.” He flashed an annoyingly pretty grin. “With my skills and yours, we can find your sister and the book. We’re each other’s best hope.”

  Rowan snapped out of whatever mind funk she was in and turned to her usual approach with Brandon Cassidy: adversarial.

  “That’s a pretty story, Cassidy,” Rowan said, “but did you really think we were gonna fall for it?”

  “Look, you’re both under stress and bound to be upset about what happened with your sister and the book. Your emotions are all over the place, which means you’re not thinking rationally.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I demanded. “Our emotions have nothing to do with this.”

  Men who thought they had some advantage over “moody” women were bad enough. It was even worse when a mage thought his dick and his lack of monthly bleeding gave him some sort of advantage over witches. We’d been the powerhouse of the magical community in this country for hundreds of years, and we were doing just fine, emotions or not.

  Rowan parked the SUV in front of our house and muttered, “I’ve heard enough bullshit to last a lifetime. I’m going in.”

  “You can’t,” Brandon said, leaning forward and resting his hand on her seat. “You said you felt trace magic in the house. I need to check it out before you contaminate it, and I also need to do a cursory check of the property. You two have to stay in the car.”

  Rowan shot him a death stare, then glared at the house while he hopped out of the car. I watched him in the rearview mirror as he headed toward the graveyard.

  Why the graveyard? We’d kept the book in the opposite direction.

  Did Captain Brandon Cassidy know something we didn’t?

  Chapter Seven

  “What are we going to do about him?” Rowan asked after nearly a minute of silence.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t trust him one bit.”

  She shot me a wry grin. “I was happy to see you stand up to him. I was worried you’d act like you did back in high school.”

  My defenses shot up. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You used to get all tongue-tied over him. But thank the goddess you got over that.”

  “Our sister’s life is on the line. I don’t have time to act like an idiot.” I pushed out a breath, feeling overwhelmed. “He obviously doesn’t trust us, so I doubt he’ll be out there long. We need to come up with a plan.”

  “That would be great if we had the faintest idea of what to do,” Rowan said with a touch of sarcasm.

  I could have called her on her attitude, but I was equally stumped. “He’s obviously good at sniffing out magic, and our house was full of it when we left. I say we stick close to him, figure out what he senses, and then hopefully use it for ourselves.”

  “He’s never going to go for us being in there after his little speech about contamination.”

  I glanced out the back window and saw him walking toward the house in long strides. He’d tried to flirt with me all those years ago. Maybe I could use that to my advantage. Flirting had never been my style and the mere thought of trying to attempt it made me anxious, but Celeste was in danger. I’d do anything to save her. Besides, Brandon likely still remembered me as meek little Phoebe who couldn’t string a complete sentence together in front of him. He wouldn’t realize what I was doing. “Let me take care of that.”

  Rowan looked surprised but lifted her shoulder into a small shrug. “You get first round, but I’ll tag in if I think you need the help.”

  I leveled my gaze with hers. “Fair enough.”

  When Brandon reached the back of Rowan’s SUV, I hopped out of the car and intercepted him. “I’m going in with you.”

  He shook his head, barely looking at me as he headed for the front steps. “Nope. Stay out.”

  I darted in front of him, blocking his path. “Excuse me, but this is our property. Our house. Our—”

  He pushed out a frustrated sigh. “Phoebe, I’m not trying to be a hard-ass, but if you’re in there, the traces of the spells connected to your person will confuse me. I won’t be able to disentangle the pathways of magic connected to the house from those connected to your, um… your body,” he finished, his eyes assessing my figure from head to toe and back up again like he was giving way to an uncontrollable urge.

  So he liked what he saw. I couldn’t help the flush of pleasure at the realization that Brandon found my looks just as distracting as I might have found his, if I were less focused on the task ahead. At some point, I might need to use that to my advantage.

  What was I thinking? I’d never played a man in my life. I wasn’t sure if I was even capable of it, but I had to do something to get information out of him, because so far Rowan and I were clueless.

  “We were in there for over twenty-four hours while we were passed out, Brandon. We’ve already contaminated the scene. Besides…” Damn, it killed me to say the next part. “I want to go back in there. If I don’t confront my fear of being back in that house, it’ll never leave me. But I’d feel safer if you’re there.”

  He gave me some serious side-eye, as though he didn’t quite believe me, and I considered batting my eyelashes. Something told me it would be a step too far.

  Finally, he said, “You can stand in the doorway, but if it feels like your magic is interfering with my investigation, I’m going to ask you to leave.”

  “Okay.”

  He tromped up the steps, le
aving me to follow. When he opened the door, he barked, “If you step one foot in the house, I’ll send you back to the car.” But then he stopped in his tracks, his body turning rigid. His chin jerked up and his head swung from side to side as though he were an animal sniffing out the signs of danger surrounding him.

  “Dammit,” he swore. “You didn’t tell me they’d left fucking wisps inside the house.”

  “We told you they used magic.” But now that I thought about it, I wondered how old the magic actually was. We’d woken up about six hours ago. It should have dissipated further by now.

  “You didn’t tell me it was literally still hanging in the air.”

  I shrugged, and he shot me a glare as he went inside. He stopped in the middle of the room, wearing an expression that made it clear he wasn’t happy.

  Remembering his warning, I stopped at the outside of the doorway, edging my toes right up to the threshold.

  His gaze dropped to my feet, then slowly traveled up to my face. A look filled his eyes that suggested he was still pissed but grudgingly amused. “I never knew you to be a rule breaker, Phoebe Whelan.”

  I tried to keep the defiance off my face and play innocent. “I’m still a rule-follower. I’m staying out of the house just like you told me to.”

  He gave me a long look, then turned away.

  I turned my attention to the state of our house, a harsh reminder of how our safe haven had been violated. I could see all the way to the back of the house, and the destruction stole my breath away. Cracked windows. Sprays of shattered glass like glittering confetti. Ransacked cupboards.

  But what made me feel the most violated were the iridescent blue traces of magic still hanging around our familiar space. Rowan and I had been unconscious while someone entered our house and used dark magic, and we’d been at their complete mercy. We could have been tortured and killed, and we would have been powerless to stop them.

  A shiver washed over me. As soon as this was over, I planned to ask my deceased second cousin Effie Abbott, from two generations back, to lend me her magic to perform a powerful cleansing ceremony.

  The headache that Rowan and I had awoken with instantly returned. My shoulders tensed, and I gritted my teeth.

  “You feel it too,” Brandon said, some of his edge gone. “I’m sure the stink doesn’t help.”

  “I don’t smell anything,” Rowan said from behind me. I jolted in surprise and my heart seemed to press against my chest.

  “Sorry,” she murmured as she touched my arm. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I wasn’t usually so jumpy, but I was more shaken up about all of this than I’d let on up to this point.

  Brandon’s gaze had landed on us, taking in everything, providing further confirmation that he considered us suspects.

  He wrinkled his nose. “It’s like… burnt vanilla,” he said, addressing Rowan’s comment. “Pungent. Like a vat of cookie dough caught on fire and kept burning until the whole house filled with smoke.”

  I turned my attention back to the wisps floating through the air, catching a slight whiff of what he’d described while he looked like he was about to gag from the smell. Only the strongest, most forceful magic left signs like this behind. “I think these things are what gave us a headache.”

  “You’re likely right,” he agreed. “The last time I saw traces like this was when we helped clean up that school shooting several years ago, out in Nebraska.”

  I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”

  “You remember, school outside of Lincoln? Kid got hold of a gun, waltzed into the building right before the final bell…”

  “Yeah, thirteen kids died.”

  “Actually, forty-two kids died.”

  “What?” Rowan said, leaning forward.

  “It was a blood sacrifice, from a bad cell of mages we managed to root out. They recruited the kid, some nonmagical human who’d had a shitty year and knew the combination to his dad’s gun safe. Killed thirteen Valeria kids. The mages who set him off were hoping to start a triangle for some powerful magic—bind their blood to the land and then use the residual magic to create a concentrated area of power. Dark shit. That type of magic is supposed to be impossible without the Book of Sindal, and that reason alone is probably the reason it failed. The other twenty-nine victims were nonmagical kids—collateral damage,” he added bitterly. “We couldn’t reverse the effects on the thirteen—the magic they’d used was too invasive and far-reaching. You know, because the perps wanted to make sure their sick purpose was fulfilled. But the other twenty-nine kids, thankfully, our healers could help. Then my team and I went in and cleared memories, cleaned up, gathered evidence for the investigation. Traces of magic were hanging everywhere. Dark magic.”

  Seeing the surprised looks on our faces, he quickly added, “There’s some similarity, to be sure. But the spells used in Lincoln were different than what I’m detecting here. It’s unlikely the events are connected, especially after so much time has gone by.”

  His voice trailed off as he grew distracted, staring off at nothing. His eyes appeared haunted, like he was replaying the entire experience over in his memory and had censored the awful parts as a courtesy to us. So this was the kind of work he did—he stepped in when good witches and mages went bad and our world intersected violently with the nonmagic one.

  “Gods only know what could happen if the book ends up in the wrong hands.”

  This was a new side of him, and I couldn’t help but see him through a different lens. Not as the threat I’d originally painted him, but as a man who was determined to protect the world from evil. Maybe we were on the same page. Maybe we really could work together.

  Then I caught him glancing at a picture of Rowan, Celeste, and I, his gaze lingering on Celeste. He still suspected her. Sure, Brandon wanted the book back, and probably for honorable reasons, but I still didn’t trust him to be fair to my sister. If word got out that the Book of Sindal had been stolen, the magical community would want to pin it on someone, and crazy Celeste Whelan would provide the perfect culprit with the perfect motive.

  Celeste would become a sacrificial lamb.

  “I had no idea the Council did stuff like that,” Rowan said quietly, obviously as horrified by Brandon’s story as I was.

  Brandon nodded. “That’s why the Protective Force was established—to battle the evil that keeps creeping into our world like cockroaches. Isn’t often they need to call me out to deal with stuff on-site, but whenever it happens, it’s bad. And this reminds me of it.” He gestured to the wisps. “Give me a second to check this out,” he said.

  Rowan and I just nodded and kept quiet as we watched Brandon go still. His green eyes glazed over, turning a solid cloudy blue.

  We’d seen witches and mages go into a performance trance before, sure, but not often. Most magic didn’t require complete concentration. Our parents had gone into this state while teaching us elements of our talents, though, and also when they taught us the fortification ritual. Once in a while, Rowan, Celeste, and I checked up on each other’s techniques—although we’d never witnessed Celeste’s part of the fortification ritual—and I loved watching my sisters’ eyes change as they came into their full power. But watching Brandon was a different thing altogether.

  He was majestic. Power and light seemed to seep from every pore of his body, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d started levitating. His presence filled the room, and to my irritation, his mix of good looks and magic made him exponentially more attractive to me. Brandon was probably the most powerful mage I’d ever known, and despite his cockiness and the fact I couldn’t trust him, I found myself drawn to him.

  His expression was frozen into something focused yet serene, even as the wisps of trace magic floating in the room reflected in the opaque blue surface of his eyes.

  After a few seconds, he shuddered slightly and his eyes cleared. He blinked hard a few times before shifting his gaze to mine.

  A shock of awareness
rocketed down my spine, and I gasped.

  “You okay, Bee?” Rowan was looking at me with sisterly concern.

  Yeah, Ro, I was just momentarily consumed with lust for my unbelievably hot high school crush despite our house being filled with traces of dark magic and our sister disappearing and the fact he thinks we’re all guilty of conspiring to unleash evil incarnate.

  Thank the gods she showed no reaction, which meant it was unlikely she’d been reading my mind. I shot her a look that hopefully told her we’d talk about this later.

  Her eyes flicked between me and Brandon.

  Brandon reached into his pocket and started to turn his back to us. “I need to make a call, and you two need to go wait in the car.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Rowan said, walking into the living room. “This very much involves us. It’s our house, dammit! We have a right to know what happened.”

  Brandon shot daggers at my sister. “I’m here by the authority of the president of the Valerian Small Council Ms. Whelan,” he said in a stiff, cold voice. “This is an active investigation and I’m not at liberty to share what I find.”

  “It’s okay, Rowan,” I said, grabbing her arm and tugging her back. “Let’s let Captain Cassidy do his job.”

  She gave me a look that suggested I’d lost my mind, and Brandon’s face made it clear he didn’t believe my gesture of goodwill, but I dragged her onto the porch before either of them could speak.

  “We need a moment to regroup,” I whispered once we were alone.

  The fury in her eyes would have normally scared me, but she let me lead her down toward the back bumper of the car.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Shh!” I hissed. “Quick. Glamour yourself and get closer so you can hear what he says.”

  “What?”

  I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.

  Brandon moved closer to one of the busted windows, his gaze on us, but he hadn’t made his call yet. He was probably waiting until we were far enough away not to eavesdrop.