The Shadow: The Original's Trilogy

by Cara Crescent

  “You can’t barge in there. As soon as someone triggers the alarm, the whole place will lock down. They’ll just go room to room, cutting all of you down. Believe me, I tried to escape that place more times than I can count.”

  “I can’t abandon her.”

  “I’m not saying that. We need a plan, though.”

  Harry was right. When he’d gone to rescue the lad, the place had been locked down tight as Fort Knox. “I know where the control room is. I watched them open the gates to that damn pit they had you in.” He shook his head. “But I don’t know how all the controls work.”

  Harry grinned. “Give me five minutes in that room before you go barging in. I’ll make sure the doors open and close when you need them to.”

  Duncan nodded. “All right. Come on, we’ll go to the control room with you, make sure you’re in, then we fight.”

  He strode down the hall to the door he’d seen in the vision, opened it, walked across the room to the portal. He glanced back at James and Doom and found the hall crowded with daemons and witches. He, Trina, and Harry weren’t going it alone anymore. They had friends now. The Council would pay.

  He went through the portal.

  Chapter 31

  Trina came to in degrees. She didn’t move at first, just listened. The room—wherever she was, was quiet. She lay on something cold and hard, maybe the ground or a table. The air had a slight musty odor, as if this room didn’t get much air circulation.

  Her head ached, but she didn’t think she’d sustained any major injury. She opened her eyes a sliver.

  “Don’t try to use your Magic yet, witch.” A female voice.

  She froze.

  “I’m a prisoner, too. In the next cell. I can’t harm you. The Sentries aren’t here.”

  She opened her eyes all the way and glanced around as she sat up. The room was dark, but she saw well enough. Silver bars surrounded the five-by-five-foot cell she was in. A woman sat in the corner of the cell next to her.

  Dark-skinned. Thin. Beautiful. Her pale brown eyes were striking against her skin tone.

  “I’m Adia.”

  “Trina.” Her brows furrowed. “Why do you think I’m a witch?”

  “They put a collar on you to prevent you from using your Magic.” She smiled, revealing a jumble of teeth. For such a beautiful woman, she should have had braces long ago. “But there’s a secret to those.”

  She touched the collar at her neck. It felt similar to the one Rowena gave her long ago. “Oh?”

  “I used to be friends with the old coven. You look similar to Satrina. She once told me those chokers don’t activate until the witch tries to use Magic. In other words, you have one shot at getting out of your cell.”

  “Got it.” She stood and scanned the bars for weak spots. Maybe the hinges.

  “Someone’s coming.”

  Trina backed up against the wall, as far from the bars as she could get as footsteps approached. The man who came around the corner didn’t look threatening at all. Thin, narrow . . . almost pretty with his long white hair and pale skin.

  He held his hands behind his back and studied her. “I’d like to ask a favor, witch.”

  “I don’t do favors for assholes that lock me up.”

  “It’s a formality until we get to know one another better.” He waved to the bars. “Once you agree to right the wrong you did in your last incarnation, I’ll let you go.”

  Her gaze sidled to Adia, who shook her head slightly.

  “What ‘wrong’ are you talking about?”

  “My wife and I tried to help the old coven. We tried to prevent you from leaving here and pursuing a male named Julius Crowley to the Colonies. Had we succeeded . . . the old coven would never have been decimated.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. Interesting. She had no way of knowing if what he said was true or not. She was leaning toward “not.” “How did you try to keep us here? By imprisoning us?”

  The corner of his lips curved. “They would’ve lived.”

  “So what wrong did we commit as we were fighting for our freedom?”

  “You. You cast against my wife. Threw her against a wall and now she’s . . . damaged. From what I’ve garnered from modern medical texts, I believe she had a stroke when her head hit the wall.”

  Shit.

  He grabbed hold of the bars, his cultured façade burning away with the heat of his anger and she re-evaluated her initial impression. He was dangerous. Crazy dangerous. “You will cure her or you will rot in this cell.” He nodded to the other woman. “Ask her. She’s been here five years now. She’ll be here forever if I have anything to say about it.”

  Adia’s lip curled. “I think your time ruling here is coming to an end, mwanaharamu.” She spit on the floor. “The Gasan is here.” She nodded to Trina. “It’s time for us women to be in control again.”

  He looked at Trina, tipped his head toward Adia. “The things she’s done would curdle your blood, witch. Things that have never been allowed under any daemon regime.” He stepped away from the bars. “We’ll see how you’re feeling in a few days of no Magic. No blood.”

  Her stomach clenched at the mention of blood. She’d need to feed soon. “I won’t be here that long.” She lifted her chin. “Duncan will come for me.”

  His lips quirked. “He’s as bad as she is.” His chin jerked to Adia. “We know all about Duncan Sinclair, don’t we, Adia?”

  Adia’s mouth turned down. Her nostrils flared. Hands fisted. Trina couldn’t tell if the reaction was to Leopold, or Duncan’s name.

  Leopold wandered closer to the bars. “Did he tell you he killed his family?”

  She swallowed, trying to dislodge the tightness in her throat.

  “Oh, yes. They say he wandered home one night after a fight and beat his wife and son to death.”

  He came around the side of her cell, and she backed away. “He wouldn’t.” Not Duncan.

  “No? He killed his father ’cause the old man beat his mother senseless.” He put his hands through the bars and rested his elbows on the cross beam. “Duncan killed him, and then the stupid brute turned into him. He did murder his family. I saw the place after he left. Blood smeared the walls. The floor. He crushed them. Only a man full of jealousy and hatred could do something like that. And you think he’s coming for you? If I were you, I’d start praying that he doesn’t. You’re far safer with us.” He left the room.

  Her gaze didn’t leave the spot she’d last seen the male. “Duncan wouldn’t do that to his family.”

  “While I hate to agree with the mwanaharamu, I do remember the rumors back then, after his transformation. You should be cautious around that one.”

  Neophytes did horrible things trying to feed the first time. Hell, she’d tried to attack Duncan when he’d transformed her. “Right after transformation?”

  Adia pressed her lips together. “Nah. He came here first, went through Guardian training. But a couple weeks after his release, Leopold had to relocate him. Sent him up to Glasgow for decades because there were wanted posters with his face all through London.”

  No. He was too controlled. Too . . . gentle. Except when he fought, and then he was fierce.

  Duncan was innocent. He had to be.

  “We should go now, before the mwanaharamu comes back.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Bastard. Leopold is a bastard, if not by birth, then by deed.”

  “And Gasan?”

  Her lips curved. “Queen.”

  She met Adia’s gaze.

  “We’ve been under patriarchal rule for too long. Things are bad for us when the males rule.”

  “What did you do, Adia? Why are you here?”

  “I loved someone I’m not allowed to love under the mwanaharamu’s rule.”

  She nodded. Adia must have fallen for a human. She couldn’t fault her for that. “Where is he now?”

  “Dead.” Her lips trembled and she pressed them into a thin line. “They h
ad him hunted and killed like a rabid dog after they dragged me here.”

  “What will you do if you get free?”

  Her light-brown eyes blazed with fury. “I will hunt them down like rabid dogs. I will take pleasure in watching their bodies crumble to ash at the end of my blade. I will avenge my lover.”

  “All right. I’ll help you get out of here.”

  She took a closer look at the door to her cell and reassessed the hinges and the lock. If she had one shot, she’d better go for the smallest—the lock. Old, with a large hole for a large key. She peeked inside and caught a glimpse of the locking mechanism. “Wish me luck.”

  “Oh, I do. I want out of here as much as you.”

  She closed her eyes and pulled energy from the Earth, let it pool inside of her. When she was full to bursting, she focused on the lock and released it all.

  The lock burst apart into millions of particles at the same time she was thrown back against the wall. She fell to the ground in a heap and moaned. Fucking choker. She felt the stones with her fingers. One was cracked.

  “Are you all right? Your lock is open. The keys to my cell are on the wall.” Adia stood, her hands wrapped around the bars, her face pressed between. “Hurry before anyone returns.”

  *****

  The room was empty. Small. Lit with torches. There were two doors. “I think it’s this way.”

  Duncan walked across the room, opened the door and glanced both ways. “Three doors down.” He motioned Harry to go to the right, but his gaze lingered on the long hallway to the left. Where the hell were the Sentries? He turned back to Harry and the lad was gone, lost somewhere amid the crowd of daemons following them.

  He pushed his way through. “Harry?”

  Sounds of a scuffle directed him to a room farther along the hall; he turned the corner as Harry ashed a Sentry.

  Harry stood and grinned. “Five minutes, all right?” He sat in front of the computer, setting his knife next to the keyboard.

  “Yeah.” This room wasn’t much larger than the last. Monitors covered one whole wall—some showed infrared heat signatures, others the regular images of security cams. Vampires couldn’t be photographed, but the infrared picked up their heat—they showed up as dark blue, whereas humans showed as bright reds and oranges.

  Harry’s hands tapped across the keyboard. “I’m in.” He did a few more keystrokes and all the monitors turned to infrared images. “There.” He pointed to a monitor in the center. The Council chambers. Each of the chairs showed a faint heat image. A dark purple or blue person-shaped blurp on the screen.

  He pointed to another screen that showed several forms crowded into a hallway. “And here are our allies.” The witches showed up bright orange and red, but the rest of the daemons didn’t look any different from the council.

  “We’re going to need a signal, so you know it’s us.”

  “One fist, straight up in the air.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  He turned to the others, but James was already relaying the information.

  “How do I get to the Chambers from here?”

  Harry enlarged a map on his screen. “Left out this door. Right two halls down. Then the first left.”

  Duncan nodded and turned to go. “Stay safe.” He followed Harry’s direction and came straight to the vestibule outside the Council Chambers. As he reached for the door, an alarm sounded and a solid steel blockade dropped over all the entrances, blocking access to the doors.

  He glanced back at the other daemons. “That must’ve been Harry.” He hoped to hell it was Harry.

  *****

  “That’s it!” Adia pointed to a door down the hall. “The elevator’s just through there.”

  They were almost free. She pulled at the choker around her throat. Adia hadn’t been able to get it off. It required a special key.

  An alarm sounded and she covered her ears.

  Sheets of steel dropped over the doors.

  “Shit.” Someone must have noticed they were gone. All the doors were covered, locked.

  “The control room.” Adia started back down the hallway they’d just traveled. “Come on. I know where it is.”

  *****

  Duncan raised his fist as he strode to the double door.

  The steel blockade lifted.

  James drew his blades. “All right, Sinclair, we got your back. Lead on.”

  He strode in to find half the Council rising from their seats. “Don’t get up.” He jumped up on the large, oval, iridescent table. The whole damn Council was here.

  Someone cleared a throat.

  Duncan turned toward the sound as he unsheathed his blade. His gaze lit on Leopold. “You have something of mine, you fucking cu—”

  James elbowed him.

  “So, the last of the Guardians have decided to grace us with their presence.” Leopold sat back in his chair. Smiled.

  Duncan took a steadying breath. He’d be better able to help Trina if he stayed calm.

  “No Sentries?” James’ gaze traveled the chamber. “Who came up with that idea?”

  “Me.” Leopold scoffed. “Who do you think?”

  James shrugged. “Julius?”

  Leopold laughed. “You think he controls my mind? Don’t be absurd.”

  Duncan exchanged a glance with James. “Julius is a mesmerist. The idea isn’t that farfetched.”

  “Julius isn’t a concern.” Leopold’s hand shook when he threaded it through his hair. “Not for me.”

  Duncan snorted. “No, I suppose the Watcher keeps him pretty quiet.”

  A smirk curved his lips. “Ah, you figured it out, did you?” Leo lifted one brow. “Took long enough.”

  James tsked. Pointed his blade at a council member with a graying goatee. “You stay right where you are, Diego.”

  “He’s started Armageddon.” Duncan glanced around at the other Council members. “The Watcher this prick made a deal with.” He waved his blade at Leopold. “Tell them. Tell them what happens when all the humans are dead.”

  “Don’t be over-dramatic. Everything’s under control.” Leo’s gaze darted to something behind him and James. “You brought humans with you?”

  He grinned. “Not humans. Witches. Got a whole coven of them.”

  “They’re dead.” His gaze traveled from Council member to Council member. “They were dead.” Leopold burst out of his seat, fists hammering the table. “Where are the rest?”

  Duncan glanced behind him. Kat, Brenda, and a few others were here, but not the whole coven.

  Kat lifted her chin. “Preparing.”

  “For what?” Diego asked.

  “War,” James said.

  Murmurs ran through the Council chambers.

  “It’s time to choose sides.” Duncan turned a slow circle. “The Watcher cannot be allowed to decimate humankind. Balance is required in all things. Join us.”

  “You’re suggesting suicide.” Diego shook his head. “The Watcher will dust you all.”

  “We have the Original.”

  Leopold smiled. “Do you?”

  Bastard. “I will as soon as I ash you.”

  “You and what army?”

  Duncan spread his arms wide. “I got everything I need right here.”

  Leopold stood. “So do I.” His gaze flicked to the side and he nodded.

  The lights flickered out.

  Duncan pulled Kat flush to his back. Immediately, James and Doom and a few others, pulled the witches to the center and backed against them so they were surrounded and protected.

  The witches must be terrified, they weren’t battle-hardened. The room was pitch-black. The Council rose from their seats and the table shifted as they climbed on to get closer.

  “Capture the witches,” Leopold ordered. “Destroy the rest.”

  Doom growled.

  Something snarled back.

  An orb of blue light lit the chamber—courtesy of one of the witches—revealing vampires splitting off copies and filling
the room, a gargoyle-ish creature rose above the others, flapping great leathery wings, the whooshing the only sound heard past the witches’ thundering hearts and labored breathing.

  The changeling opened its spindly-toothed mouth to unleash an ear-piercing screech.

  Brenda screamed.

  The light orb fizzled out.

  The first Council member attacked and Duncan’s hands snapped out, grabbing both the daemon’s hand and the knife he held. With a quick jerk of his arm the blade rent through the bastard’s neck. He was ash before he clocked onto what had happened.

  Magic lit the room as the coven took offensive shots with orbs of electricity and fire.

  Duncan’s attention zeroed in on Leopold. He appeared adamant to stay out of the fight, sidling toward the exit while he let the others take the hits for him. Duncan headed his way.

  A big son of a bitch stepped in front of Duncan—Iram was his name—blocking Leopold from his view. A mane of shaggy red hair framed a thick jaw, straight patriarchal nose, and dull brown eyes.

  Duncan swung without breaking stride, thinking to lay him flat and keep after Leopold.

  That didn’t happen.

  Iram didn’t even flinch. He did, however, growl. A meaty fist connected with Duncan’s jaw, sending him sprawling.

  Pulling himself up, he touched his jaw gingerly, regarding his opponent. In the background, Leopold paused, no doubt lured by seeing him get trounced.

  Fine. Leo wasn’t going anywhere. They were all locked in. He just hoped no one else got to him before he did. “What kinda talent are you?” He rose, padding closer with fists up, just like in the old days.

  Iram didn’t respond.

  “Strong silent type, eh?” He faked a couple punches to gauge his adversary.

  Iram dodged the blows like a well-practiced boxer. No fear crossed his eyes. No adrenalin rush made him shake. Nothing.

  He continued to circle, chatting as he did. “Changeling. Must be with a mug like that.”

  “Fuck off, Sinclair.”

  Duncan feigned right and threw a left hook to his neck. Iram staggered back. “Even the little guy gets lucky,” Duncan sneered.

  Iram dropped his knife and tackled him. Oversized hands gripped Duncan’s head, bashed it back into the hard ground. Fuck. He reeled from the blow. Iram had him pinned, unable to pull his arms back far enough to get a solid hit, incapable of reaching his blade.