Shadow's Curse

by Jami Gray

  Cheveyo let both men draw back then broke the quiet. “I was unaware of any alliance being made tonight.” And whatever his reaction was to that, was well concealed.

  “It’s a rather recent development,” Darius was careful to keep his voice level.

  “Does it have anything to do with the three names Gavin mentioned tonight?” Vidis turned away to gaze over the forest sprawled below.

  “Yeah,” Gavin answered. “Axel was attacked shortly after he shared three names as possible leads in Mulcahy’s death.” He paused. “Zayn Aimeric, Leopold DiMarcco, and Corwin Westbrooke.”

  Darius gave Cheveyo and Vidis credit, as Gavin dropped the three bombshells, both of the Northwest leaders barely blinked.

  “And Natasha was able to rule out Mr. Aimeric.” Carys’s voice carried over the deck. All four males turned to face the redhead coming through one of the French doors. Light and shadow played over her face as she came closer to their impromptu huddle. “Thanks to the blood tie she forged with Darius, here.”

  Cheveyo and Vidis turned their attention to Darius. He refused to react. If they had questions, they could damn well voice them. Then he’d consider answering them.

  Cheveyo didn’t look away from Darius. “That’s not a strong enough reason to forge an alliance, Carys.”

  “Not for you, perhaps,” Carys said. “However, maybe this will help sway your opinion. Not only is Darius a member of the Sarielian Order, but he was Ryan’s inside source to the Council. Natasha felt it was in the Northwest’s best interest to maintain that partnership.” Her voice hardened. “I tend to agree with her.”

  “Why?” Vidis snapped.

  Her smile wasn’t nice. “Ryan knew the Council would eventually hunt us, so he created relationships that would give the Northwest an added element against them. If we try to face down the Council alone, we’ll fail to protect our people. We’re not strong enough to convince those wavering on the Council to side with us. We need something more to offer by way of protection. Darius can do that for us, can’t you?”

  He smiled and inclined his head. “As I’ve said before, the Order serves the Kyn, not the Council.”

  “Can you guarantee every member of the Order feels the same?”

  Darius understood the bitterness running along Gavin’s question. For the new captain, discovering a snake curled around your ankle with fangs sunk in deep could make one wonder about the wisdom of trusting anyone. “For one of the few times in my life, yes, I can.”

  “How?” Vidis asked.

  Surprisingly, it was Carys who answered, “Because aligning with us gives Darius something he wants very badly.”

  Curious to her answer, Darius asked, “And what is that?”

  Danger and something much more primitive glittered in her green eyes. “Revenge for one of your own.”

  Cheveyo frowned. “One of your own?”

  Next to him, Gavin shifted his weight. “She means Mulcahy.”

  Vidis studied Darius. “Mulcahy was with the Order?”

  Darius shrugged. “Before he came here and created the Northwest houses, yes.”

  Vidis tilted his head to the side, the patchy moonlight reflecting off his eyes. “You came thinking one of us was behind his death.”

  A statement, not a question, so Darius remained silent.

  “Where does Zayn fit in?” Cheveyo asked.

  “He doesn’t,” Carys said, her voice flat and cold. “And he won’t.”

  “Not until we have Natasha back and absolute proof the Councilman isn’t working with Jamie,” Gavin added, his gaze never leaving Darius. A not so subtle threat.

  “Do you expect me to argue?” Darius asked.

  “You vouched for him,” Gavin said. “Even as Carys held a knife to your throat. You changing your tune now?”

  “Let me repeat what I said earlier, he and I are all that stands between you and the Council.” Darius turned and dragged his gaze over the four Kyn standing around him. “Until your rat problem is exterminated, Zayn remains free of this mess. However, if you continue to grill me, you will lose another leader. Your choice on which one, because I have no intention of leaving Natasha alone with Jamie.”

  Carys blinked. “You think Jamie could kill her?” She shook her head. “You have met our Amanusa queen, correct? She’s not going to need you to ride to her rescue.”

  “I’m not the one with blinders on when it comes to Natasha.” Darius battled back his frustration. “You think Ryan’s death shook your world? What do you think it did to one of his oldest friends?”

  Uncomfortable looks flashed across the gathered faces. Natasha would carve his eyes out for this, but he needed these leaders to fucking think. Grief played vicious games with even the most intelligent leaders. “Ryan and Natasha go back hundreds of years. Farther than any relationship you all can claim. If you think his death didn’t leave its mark on her, then you are the ones who don’t know your Amanusa queen. If it wasn’t for Ryan’s death, she would’ve seen Ryder coming from miles away. Treachery isn’t a new thing for her. She learned its lesson at the hand of her twin sister, so don’t stand here and snidely insinuate that I don’t know who I’m dealing with, because I have a hell of a better idea than any of you. You see exactly who and what she wants you to see. You don’t see the bigger picture.”

  He looked right at Gavin. “Ryan’s gone. He can’t protect his niece any longer. The abilities you and Raine share, who do you think keeps it from the Council?”

  Gavin’s lips tightened.

  Darius wasn’t done. “Tell me something. If she hadn’t thrown her name into the ring for the captaincy, would you have stepped up?”

  Understanding finally sparked in Gavin’s jade gaze.

  Darius turned back to Carys. “No, I’m not trying to ride to Natasha’s rescue. I’m more concerned with what twisted spell Ryder’s going to use on her. Look at the magic thrown at the Northwest. The common denominator—it’s ancient, powerful and twisted. It’s enough to make even me pause.”

  Carys held up her hands. “Enough. You’ve made your point.”

  Darius damned well hoped so.

  She dropped her hands and rubbed them along her thighs. “If the blood you two shared doesn’t allow you to track her, then how do you plan on finding her?”

  “Xander, Niall, Raine, and I will start scouring any location associated with Ryder,” Gavin said.

  “Vidis and I can start combing through his computer records,” Cheveyo offered. “See if we can’t narrow the list of places down.”

  “And you?” Carys directed her question to Darius.

  Relieved they were finally doing something, he said, “I’ll take the one road none of you can.”

  She canted her head. “Can you track her through the Side?”

  “Not her.” He began to loosen the chains holding his demon in place, letting the need for the hunt rise. “Ryder.”

  “How?” Gavin asked.

  “I’m going to use the blood traces he left in Axel to run his ass to the ground.” The words were low and difficult to get out.

  “Blood traces?” Tension made Cheveyo’s question sharp.

  “The spell he used with Axel,” Darius forced the explanation out. “He used his blood to set it in motion and interfere with the pack ties. All I need is enough to taste.” He moved toward the back door, only to have Cheveyo’s hand on his arm stop him.

  “We need to know who Ryder is working for.” An unnecessary reminder that the Northwest wanted their traitor alive.

  Darius held that obsidian gaze, the red from his eyes reflecting back to him. “If I can get to him before Natasha does, I’ll try to make sure he can talk. I won’t promise you more.”

  Cheveyo dipped his chin and let him go. Wasting no more time, he headed indoors to pick up Ryder’s trail.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Natasha swam her way out of a smothering blackness and straight into a wave of throbbing pain. When she tried to move her hands to hold
her skull together, the harsh rasp of chains on metal tore along her awareness while needles stabbed down her arms, adding to the excruciating overload. Those thrice-cursed needles followed the path of her spine, hit her hips, and shot fire down her legs. Instinctively she tried to curl them tighter under her, only to have the harsh surface she sat on scrape over her exposed skin and bare feet.

  Her soft groan escaped before she could capture it. The weak sound filtered through the haze of pain, shocking her into an acute awareness. Smells hit her first—salt tinged metal, nose-curling rot and mildew, air tainted with diesel—which meant she was down by the river. Probably one of the many cargo docks. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell which river, the Columbia or the Willamette. Her ears strained beyond the echoing hollow pants of her breaths and found the slap of water against a solid surface, matched by the low drones of machinery.

  The pins and needles crawling over her legs and spine started to fade. Carefully, she tried to adjust her legs, cursing the fact she chose to wear a damn dress on today of all days. Pants would’ve given her skin added protection.

  A cold sweat popped out on her brow, the first few drops stinging her eyes. Turning her head she managed to rub her face over one restrained arm to wipe the dampness away. The chain locking her hands shifted, the heavy metal links scraping against the wall. Echoes chased the sound.

  Under the pounding pulse in her head, something nagged at her. More concerned with trying to figure out where she was and why she was chained, she ignored it. Blinking, she lifted her head, slowly so not to increase the pounding ache, and tried to see beyond the pressing darkness. It took longer than it should have for the shadows to give up their secrets.

  No windows. The only light seeped around the blurred edges of what she supposed was a large door at the far end of her cell. Slowly, she tilted her head back, trying not to grit her teeth since she wasn’t sure her head could take it. Solid darkness stared back. The chains holding her seemed to glow softly, or maybe that was just her, since her vision didn’t seem to be working right yet. She blinked again, hoping it would help. It didn’t.

  Around her wrists, inch-wide bands circled, no visible locks or hinges. She frowned. That wasn’t right. You couldn’t lock or unlock someone if the bands didn’t open, so how in the hell did they end up around her wrists? Twisting her arms, she realized the actual chain links and cuffs seemed to be formed of the same piece of metal, with no obvious seams or soldering. Her gaze traveled further up the chains, trying to see how they connected to the wall above her head. Her stomach sank when the same phenomena appeared there as well.

  Considering what it took to mold and mutate metal to such an extent, a sickening knowledge slowly unfurled. Only one person close to her could manipulate metals to such an extent. Jamie Ryder. A scion of Blood of Earth, and a Fundo demon, he held complete control over the alloys of the Earth.

  Memories pushed their way forward, each one piling on the next until the weight was almost crushing. The car sputtering to a rattling stop. The side of a road, devoid of lights or homes. The headlights flickering then blinking out completely. Jamie’s soft curse, followed by his apology. His door opening, then closing as he got out to check the car. The hood raising, minutes passing, until she came around to see what the issue was. Cool night wind playing over her, a teasing edge of moisture promising rain later. The sound of her heels against gravel. Using one hand on the car for balance. Rounding the hood, asking what was wrong. Jamie frowning at the engine and motioning toward it. Coming to stand beside him for a closer look. His arm snapping around her with a startlingly suddenness, yanking her off balance. A cruel, unexpected blow against her jaw. A tumbling well of blackness swallowing her whole.

  Rumbling, vicious growls echoed around her metal box, chasing her back into the present. Fury, dark and deep, pushed away the accumulated body aches, leaving her shaky and weak.

  Weak?

  Her growls abruptly cut off. Staring unseeingly into the darkness, she focused on what should exist under her skin, only to come up empty. Her other half, her demon half, was…gone?

  Her mind spun, her chest ached. Beyond rattled, she continued her internal evaluation even as the pressure on her chest grew. Little black dots fuzzed out the edges of her vision, vision that couldn’t pierce the shadows because she couldn’t reach that half of her who lived in darkness.

  A harsh sob broke the silence, and only then did Natasha realize she was holding her breath. Her pulse spiked, heat rushed over her skin, only to be replaced by a cold sheen of sweat. Dammit, Nat, pull your shit together! Panic wasn’t new, but it hadn’t stopped in for a visit in quite some time either. First, she got her body back under control, concentrating on evening out her breathing, until her muscles finally unlocked. Satisfied her body wouldn’t melt down, she began to think.

  Very few things could keep an Amanusa’s demonic nature out of touch. Bindings subsumed the human intellect, and since she was terrifyingly trapped in a human body with her mind intact, she could cross that one off the list. A spell infused poison might work, if a wizard knew what the hell they were doing.

  She swallowed carefully, searching for any strange, lingering tastes. Nothing, so no for the poisoned spell idea.

  Panic nibbled at the edges of her mind, but she ignored it.

  There was one, very dire period in an Amanusa’s life when shutting off the link between intellect and instinct was necessary. Adolescence. When hormones created more havoc than even demons enjoyed, then a constraining spell was put into place. Could this be a variant of that spell? Considering that Jamie seemed to prefer utilizing old magic and spells, it was quite possible. How difficult would it be to stretch a constraint spell to accomplish the one thing guaranteed to even his odds?

  Time to find out. Since getting physically loose wasn’t happening any time soon, she took her time to do a mental check. Without pain clouding her thoughts, she managed to uncover Jamie’s nasty little gift. It was as if she was trapped in a small box with impenetrable, misty walls. She threw her magical weight against them to no avail.

  It was useless to wear herself out, smarter to find a weak point. Of course, easier said than done. If she didn’t manage to break through Jamie’s spell, the link between her two halves could be damaged beyond repair.

  The longer her more bestial half remained free from her intellect, the stronger the urges, that made the Amanusa who they were, grew. If she strained, she could make out a dense shadowy form on the other side. Her other half she was sure, but the damn walls kept them apart.

  To reestablish the balance between her two sides, she needed to figure out a way through the barriers. Whatever Jamie did to alter the spell, caused it to act like a steroid infused constraint spell, but different. The different worried her. Base on the spells used on Ryan, Sullivan, and Jared, the chances were damned good that a lethal trigger existed. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find it. Yet.

  Part of her gave Jamie credit. He might be a treacherous little shit, but he was far from stupid.

  Considering where she was and why, perhaps she should be more concerned with her own powers of observation. How in the thrice curse hells had she missed the signs with him?

  Yes, Ryan’s death had thrown her, but was it something more than that? Had losing her friend blinded her to what stood beside her? Or had grief colored her perceptions? She honestly didn’t know.

  Unfortunately, the reasons behind Jamie’s actions were much easier to understand. The promise of power was a seductive lure, especially when the one dangling it was so very, very good at making it appear so. She watched it happen before, with her sister, Irina. If her sister, who had been much older and wiser than Jamie, could be fooled, the boy never stood a chance.

  Anger, disappointment, pain, and pity all swam together, making her heart ache. It no longer mattered to Natasha which man, Westbrooke or DiMarcco, had turned Jamie against her. Regardless, she would ensure they suffered for it.

  Only if you can get yourse
lf out of this mess. Her lips curled in disgust. Gods above and below, she hated that snide little voice. Until recently, she managed to beat it into submission. After Ryan died and left her, it made a comeback, popping up when least wanted. Like right now.

  Something rattled and scraped against the door at the far end, then the small sliver of lighter darkness began to widen. Voices drifted in, two separate pitches, both male. Time to play possum. She let her eyes close, forcibly relaxing each muscle until she hung lax in the chains, the picture of unconsciousness.

  Then she listened.

  Metal grated over loose gravel. As the door opened, she watched from under the veil of her lashes. With her demon locked away, she didn’t have to worry about the telltale red glow in her eyes. Still, she let them shut completely as the voices drew near.

  Footsteps drifted closer, words becoming clearer. “You pulled me out of a key meeting.” The older voice held traces of Europe that not even the bright burn of anger could wipe away. “Why?”

  “Would you rather I approached your fellow Councilman, Zayn Aimeric?”

  Even expecting it, the sound of Jamie’s cocky voice, hurt. Yet, anger at proof of his betrayal quickly swallowed it.

  The footsteps stopped. “Aimeric is nothing but a posturing idiot.” Derision coated every word and cut through memories, bringing her a name. Leopold DiMarcco.

  Natasha fought not to react, her blood chilling in her veins. A deadly force, DiMarcco’s presence skewed the odds decidedly out of her favor. She couldn’t afford to sit and wait.

  Hiding behind her unconscious charade, she tested the limits of the spell Jamie wrapped around her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t completely tune out the conversation, but working on two separate mental levels required a delicate balance. Lucky for her, that balance was second nature.

  The urge to check where the two men stood tempted her to lift her lids, but she fought it back. Considering the echo of their voices, they were still by the door.