The Company of Shadows (The Company #1)

by Olsen, Lisa

  A sharp pain at her shoulder brought Cady up short, halfway through the movement, and she tugged at the neckline of the damp t-shirt to inspect the cut there. Deep red marks radiated from the cut in spidery lines, about the diameter of a grapefruit. Carefully peeling back the bandaids revealed the cut itself was crusty and dark, nearly black at the center.

  “That’s never good,” she murmured, studying the wound with equal parts awe and revulsion. The skin was warm to the touch, but not feverish. Cady wondered how it didn’t hurt more now that she got a good look at it, but it only stung when she extended her arm too far. A quick search of the drawers turned up a half used tube of antiseptic ointment, and Cady smeared it all over the wound with the tip of her finger, scrubbing her hands furiously once finished.

  Of course if her small cut was so bad off, she couldn’t imagine what state she might find Ethan in, and she slipped into the bedroom to get a better look at him under the blanket. Carefully, she reached for the blanket, but she’d only managed to peel it back a few inches when he grabbed her arm, pulling her down onto the bed beside him. In one swift movement, he had her wrist pinned above her head, his body half covering hers, a knife pressed to her throat.

  “Whoa… it’s me,” she squeaked, holding as still as she could manage.

  Ethan’s eyes lost some of their wildness as recognition set in. “Cady?”

  “You were expecting someone else?” she asked, offering a wan smile.

  “Shit.” He fell back against the bed, the knife disappearing back under his pillow before pressing both palms to his eyes. “What time is it?”

  “About six-thirty.” Cady swallowed, taking a deep breath before she rolled over onto her good shoulder to face him. “I came to check on your wounds, which you probably just tore open again, by the way. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m naked,” he observed, lifting up the blanket to peer underneath.

  “Yep,” she gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, not completely.”

  “You undressed me?”

  He looked amused by the idea, as if that might be too much for her to handle after everything else she’d done for him the night before. “You were all bloody, I thought you might rest better without them. Which, case in point, you obviously slept so well, you completely forgot I was here or that you’ve been mortally wounded.”

  “I told you, it’s not that bad,” he snorted. “I’ll be slower for a few days, but I’ll mend.”

  “I still want to get a good look at the wound, make sure it’s not infected.”

  “It’s fine,” he insisted, pushing himself up to a seated position on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with hardly a grimace. It shocked her to see how easily he moved after just a few hours. “You should think about going home, your brother’s probably worried sick.”

  “He’ll be fine, it’s not like this is the first time I haven’t come home before.” At his raised brow, she felt the need to explain. “I don’t mean like that. I mean if we’re out and it gets too late, sometimes I’ll go home with one of my friends if it’s closer.” Though usually she did send Ian a text with a heads up.

  “Still, it’s probably time for you to go.”

  Cady’s brows drew together in a deep frown as she sat up, scooting to the foot of the bed. He was awfully eager for her to leave. “Fine, Mr. Grateful, I’ll go. But not before I get another look at your side.”

  “It’s really not necessary…”

  “Hey, I’m not letting you die of gangrene after all the hard work I did, dragging your sorry ass up here. Now stop being such a baby and let me take a look!” she demanded, hands on her hips.

  “Alright, fine, if I let you change the bandage will you leave?”

  “I’d be happy to,” she smiled sweetly, relishing her triumph as she retrieved the first aid kit, withdrawing the scissors and the box of gauze. If she saw one trace of infection, she was going to call 911 on his ass and get him some medical attention whether he liked it or not. She’d probably have to go wait in line at the free clinic later herself, but she pushed that unpleasant thought from her mind, focusing on the task at hand.

  “You know, you could be a little more understanding. All I’m trying to do is make sure you’re alright.” Ethan made no response, his eyes closed, but she was pretty sure he was still listening to her. “It’s the least I can do at any rate. I mean, I owe you my life. Thank you for that, by the way.”

  “It’s my job. Besides, you already repaid the debt by bringing me back here and patching me up, we’re even.”

  “I don’t think that makes us even,” she shook her head, tugging at the sticky tape. “Without you I would have gone with him.” Joyfully, without objection. It scared the hell out of her. Cady swallowed past the sudden dryness in her mouth. “I would have…”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?” His eyes popped open.

  “Of course I do, I’m not stupid. I know he used some kind of hypnotism on me. I don’t do things like that, and Penny especially doesn’t do things like that.” The tape came free on one side and she made another cut on the other, as gently as she could. “What would he have done to me if you hadn’t been there?” Ethan didn’t answer, and she looked away from her task to watch him until he looked back at her. “Would he have killed me?”

  “If you were one of the lucky ones.”

  Another swallow, Cady nodded, focusing her attention back to the tape. The other edge came free, and she carefully peeled it back, grabbing a clean square of gauze at the ready in case it bled all over. The injury gave no sign of bleeding or tearing open at disturbing the bandage, a thick scab having formed over the wound. The skin around it was pink and healthy, though flecks of dried blood clung in a few places.

  “This looks pretty good,” she breathed in relief, examining it closely. “Really good.” Not that she was an expert, but she would have thought it would take a lot longer to knit together without stitches. At the very least she expected a trickle of blood or clear fluid, based on her own experiences with cuts and scrapes. The older bruises she’d seen the night before were all but faded as well.

  “I’m a fast healer,” Ethan shrugged, grabbing the free edge of the tape and pulling the rest of it off his back and other side.

  “Yeah, but…” Cady watched his movements. He didn’t so much as wince at the way his body twisted when he removed the tape, and he had to be using his abdominal muscles to hold the position. And the way he’d flipped her onto the bed, that had taken real strength, and it hadn’t aggravated his injury at all. “This is pretty fast.”

  Ethan lay back against the pillows again. “I thought you wanted me to get better fast.”

  “I do. It’s just…” She grabbed hold of his hand, tugging at the knot of fabric. “I want to look at your hand too.” Ethan sat through it patiently, offering no explanation when she found the ridges of scar tissue on both sides of his hand, but no trace of a fresh injury at all. “I don’t understand.”

  His hand covered hers, blue eyes clear and bright. “I’m a fast healer.”

  Distracted by the touch, Cady looked down as his thumb passed over the back of her hand. There were too many questions about this man. “Would you really have gone through me to get to him?”

  If she’d been hoping to shock him into an honest answer, Ethan gave no sign of being rattled by the quick change in subject. “Those were just words. I couldn’t let him think you meant anything to me.”

  “Did I mean anything to you?”

  “You didn’t,” he admitted readily and she looked down at their joined hands.

  “And now?”

  His thumb made a slow circle and then withdrew. “Now, I think that tea is starting to catch up with me.” Ethan gave a lopsided grin revealing even, white teeth. Without waiting for a response he pushed himself out of bed, steady on his feet, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Cady flopped back on the bed for a moment, f
eeling flushed over the near-moment they’d sort of almost shared. Despite the fact that he kept ordering her to leave, he also kept reaching for her hand, that had to mean something.

  “You did my laundry?” His voice came out of the bathroom and she couldn’t help but smile over the shock in his voice.

  “Don’t get all excited, it was a one time thing. And I don’t iron,” she called back to him.

  “Thanks,” he chuckled. The toilet flushed, then running water. Just when she started to get her hopes up that he might change his mind and ask her to stick around for a while, the next words that floated out to her were less than encouraging. “I think you should probably get moving and go home.”

  “Yeah, yeah, alright,” she grumbled. “I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.” With a heave, she lurched to her feet, the room dipping and swaying as she lost her balance. Clutching at the bedside table, she missed it, and fell back against the bed. “Ethan?” she called out, a tinge of fear creeping into her voice as the room continued to spin.

  “I mean it, Cady. Not that I’m not appreciative, because I am. It’s just… it’s for the best.”

  “Something’s…” Cady swallowed, her vision narrowing to a pinprick of light as the darkness encroached. “…wrong.”

  Chapter Seven

  Her sudden silence made Ethan wonder if she’d taken him at his word and left, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe she’d go that easily without saying goodbye. Not after making so much fuss about being allowed to stay. Somehow, Cady struck him as the type of girl who didn’t like to give up without a fight, and he could admit, he kind of liked that about her. Part of him wanted her to stick around and fuss over him; he wanted it very much. But it was a bad idea that could only end in disaster, so he geared himself up to do what he had to in order to send her packing.

  Ethan came out of the bathroom, expecting another argument. When he spotted her sprawled across his bed, he figured she must be exhausted. But better she get rested up in her own bed where it was safer. “Hey, time to get up.” He tapped her foot, frowning when she didn’t respond.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he tried again, shaking her foot harder. Nothing. Brows drawing together into a single line, he approached the side of the bed, only then noticing the beads of sweat across her forehead. His hands were cool from the bathroom sink but she felt hot to him as he touched her cheek. Too hot. Feverish. “Shit,” he breathed, shaking her by the shoulders, which drew a moan from her lips. Had she been wounded somewhere and he’d missed it?

  Careful to preserve her modesty as best he could, he examined her from head to toe, the bare legs making an easier job of it. When he got to the nastiness on her shoulder, he sucked in a breath. This was bad, real bad. An infection from the looks of it, but something tugged at the edge of his memory, he’d seen it before.

  “Cady, can you hear me?” he asked gently, easing her up higher on the bed, away from the stained mess he’d left the night before. She gave no response. Grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom, he laid a cold compress to her forehead, before he fired up his laptop, not quite knowing what he was searching for.

  Instinctively, he knew there was no point in taking her to the hospital; it wasn’t a normal infection. All they’d do was shoot her up with antibiotics, but that wouldn’t touch the root of the problem.

  Pictures… he knew he’d seen a picture of something similar before. It could be anywhere, a previous search on the net, maybe not even on the same computer, but Ethan doggedly searched through his history for anything that sounded of a similar vein. Cady shifted restlessly on the bed, and he looked up, his frustration palpable. What if he was wrong? What if it was a normal infection and by keeping her there, he was killing her?

  Briefly, he considered taking her next door, dropping her in her brother’s lap to make it his problem. She was nothing to him, and he had very little time before the demon jumped to the next body. It wasn’t his problem, he’d already saved her once. She wasn’t his responsibility and he had plenty to do to clean up the mess he’d made the night before. Washing his hands of her would be the easiest thing to do.

  Instead he got up and dipped the cloth in cool water, pressing it to her flushed cheeks, drawing it across the slope of her neck before replacing it on her brow. The dark web of infection was now visible from the neckline of the t-shirt like an intricate tattoo.

  Tattoo.

  Was it that simple?

  Snatching up the laptop, he opened the folder for case files, scanning back to the first folder, labeled Genesis. Not a case, but documentation of his own process. It had been years since he’d sorted through the pictures, though he regularly added to it when he picked up a new glyph. Ignoring the documents, he scanned the pictures, back to the older ones. The ones taken by the Company.

  There they were. The series of tattoos down his back, one by one. Stills of the result, but not the process. There was nothing in the pictures to differentiate them from any other tattoos received in a regular parlor, nothing to indicate there was anything out of the ordinary.

  Ethan’s eye caught what he was looking for, a single picture showing him lying on his stomach soon after the ritual. The line of symbols tattooed into his back bore the same network of diseased lines radiating out from them. It was a shadowed blur to him, time dulling the memory of pain. By the time he’d woken, the transformation was complete, his skin healthy, but permanently marked, binding him to a single purpose. But the pictures captured his body’s reaction to the foreign substance, those same dark tracks as his body fought off the infection.

  She’d been poisoned by demon blood.

  If he was right, there was nothing modern medicine could do to save her, she either would survive it on her own, or she wouldn’t. When he’d been marked, the process was controlled, the rituals binding the demon’s power with his, directing it, harnessing it. But her exposure was under no such guidance, and to his knowledge, such a thing was extremely rare. Most victims exposed to a demon in any form didn’t survive the encounter.

  It was his duty to report it. The Company would want to know, possibly have him take steps.

  Ethan turned on his heel, knowing he was only delaying the inevitable decision, but he was thirsty. His side pulled painfully when he lifted the pitcher of tea from the fridge, but it could have been a lot worse. One, two, three tall glasses of tea disappeared as he gulped thirstily, standing nearly naked in the kitchen, a strange girl in his bed.

  It was a new situation for him, and Ethan disliked change in general. There were too many unknown factors in his job. He liked his home life to be as neat and orderly as possible.

  He’d seen her around the building, of course, he wasn’t that much of a monk. Some of the things she wore when going out with her friends... they made a man sit up and take notice, disciplined or not. The walls were thin, sometimes he heard her laughter when he was trying to focus. The annoyance at the interruptions had soured his opinion of her, but seeing her up close and personal… she was so full of life. How long had he spent in the company of death, ignoring everything but the hunt?

  Realizing he’d found his way back to the bedroom again to stare down at her, Ethan took in the delicate arch of her brow, the siren’s hair already starting to fight the control she’d imposed in her efforts to bind it away. The shapely legs, her slender form masked by the baggy t-shirt and shorts; she seemed impossibly small and frail, nothing like the woman who’d hauled him back to the apartment in his time of need.

  There was something about seeing her dressed in his clothes that he found sexier than the skimpy club wear. It made him think of what it would be like to wake up to glorious, fiery hair mussed with sleep, her eyes half lidded and drowsy. To see her padding through his apartment in a t-shirt and nothing else.

  “Not for you, buddy,” he reminded himself, turning away. But why not? Why should he have to live like a priest? The vows he’d taken were far from holy. She was a friendly thing, and tough too. Not too many gir
ls her age would have pulled a knife out of him and managed to bandage him up like that without falling apart. Why not? Except he knew exactly why it was such a bad idea.

  He really needed to call and check in.

  Ethan took a long, hot shower, washing away the remnants of his failure, covering the mirror out of habit after shaving even though it was still daylight out. Barely glancing at the girl, other to make sure she wasn’t worse, he dressed and forced down three more glasses of tea, even though he wasn’t particularly thirsty anymore. Out of habit, he scoured the apartment, removing any traces of his blood or the demon’s. Venturing out into the hallway, he did the same, checking for droplets of blood in the elevator and in the parking garage, retrieving his dague from the back seat of the car. The obsidian ritual dagger was sticky, but unharmed and he was glad she’d thought to bring it along.

  The car was a bigger problem, his blood had seeped into the upholstery, but he put that off for another day. He was still moving a lot slower than he’d have liked, but he knew he was over the worst of it. Within a few days he wouldn’t even have a scar to show for it.

  Checking in on Cady, he thought the infection seemed better, but it was hard to tell. The sun was high in the sky, and the apartment sweltering hot, even with the windows all thrown open. Ethan busied himself cleaning his weapons and scouring the net for signs of the investigation into the body he’d left behind. A random knifing in the Tenderloin didn’t merit the front page, but he found it in the crime section. The victim’s identity hadn’t been released yet, and details were few, but the police boasted several promising leads.

  He really needed to call and check in.

  Two more glasses of tea brought the end of the pitcher, and he brewed another pot of the potent concoction. Cady seemed less restless, sleeping peacefully. Her skin no longer held the sheen of sweat, though that could have been the cooling coastal breeze coming in through the bedroom window. The stain at her shoulder definitely showed signs of improvement though, the spidery tracks more red than black, about the radius of a tennis ball.