The Shadows and Sorcery Collection

by Heather Marie Adkins

  But the “state of emergency” should have been enough to get her lazy ass out of bed.

  “You don’t know?” The receptionist finally tore her gaze from Senka and looked at me sympathetically. “She’s in the hospital.”

  Dr. Webster met me at the door to Lila’s room as if the receptionist had alerted him to expect me. His brown face was haggard and pale, and his gray goatee sported a surrounding scruff of five o’clock shadow.

  Of course Lila would have it in her contract for him to be her caretaker. She wouldn’t have trusted anyone other than the Coroner with her well-being.

  “What happened?” I asked before he could speak.

  He stepped back and widened the door, motioning us in. He nodded at Senka, apparently unconcerned by her presence.

  Lila rested in a hospital bed, hooked to machines that beeped and whirred—proof she was still blessedly alive. Her vibrant, sun-kissed skin had gone colorless, though her fabulous golden hair spread in an arc over the pillow—the only spot of color in the room.

  “She fell down the stairs,” Dr. Webster said quietly.

  I crossed my arms. “Lila doesn’t take the stairs. Not even for me.”

  Dr. Webster inclined his head but didn’t speak. His gaze flicked surreptitiously to the ceiling behind me.

  I walked around the bed and took Lila’s cool hand. Keeping my face pointed to hers, I searched the ceiling in my periphery.

  A camera. They’d installed a camera in Lila’s hospital room.

  Why?

  “She fell down the stairs.” I shook my head and forced a chuckle. “Silly girl. What are her injuries?”

  Dr. Webster placed his body between the camera and Lila, facing me. “A broken clavicle, a broken femur, and a concussion.” His hand moved over her body, out of sight of the camera, to part her golden hair. He looked into my eyes. “The hit took place here. On a stair,” he added, then gave a slight head shake.

  Not a stair. If not a stair... what hit Lila on the head?

  Dr. Webster was a genius. He’d spent twenty years studying every death the Hollow had seen. If he said the fall hadn’t caused the concussion, and he was taking every step to tell me the truth without someone catching on...

  Fuck. What was happening?

  “Will she wake up?” I’d been too caught up in the subterfuge for the situation to sink in. Until I spoke those words. Sharp, hot anguish rose in my throat.

  “Only time will tell.” He launched into an explanation of concussions, one I had heard a thousand times and could have recited in my sleep. He knew that. He wasn’t sharing it with me because he thought I would have forgotten.

  He was sharing it to give him time to reach out and gently lift one delicate eyelid on Lila’s hauntingly beautiful face.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  Lila was shadow touched.

  24

  Dr. Webster’s cleverness always surprised me. But not as much as the rock-solid proof that the Reina of Senka Hollow had fallen to darkness.

  Through simple questions that any loved one might ask, I learned that Dr. Webster hadn’t told anyone his theory on the concussion, nor had he mentioned her condition. No one knew she was shadow touched.

  No one knew she’d probably been knocked out before being pushed down the stairs.

  I needed to talk to Senka, and the only place I knew to be safe from prying eyes was Lila’s office.

  The receptionist did the same awkward two-step away from Senka as we sailed through the lobby, but I ignored her. Senka gave the girl a wide grin, almost as if taunting her. I laughed. She was finding her sense of humor, buried beneath all that darkness.

  I locked the door behind us and motioned for Senka to take a seat in the chair I usually occupied. For the first time ever, I circled the desk and sat in Lila’s massive seat.

  “Did you see that?”

  Senka nodded.

  “Do you understand what it means? To be shadow touched?”

  The princess nodded again.

  “Can you fix her?” My voice cracked.

  Sadness graced her face. Senka opened her palms as if to say, I don’t know.

  “If I thought I knew a way we could right things, would you come with me? Together. You and me.”

  Senka put a hand on her heart and closed her eyes. “My destiny.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want you to save the Hollow unless you believe it is worth saving. Right now, I’m not certain who’s an ally and who’s an enemy here. I have a feeling things are going to get worse.”

  Senka’s eyes opened. “You are worth saving.”

  “But I will be with you,” I reminded her.

  “Your life... family...” Senka struggled with her words in her raspy, unused voice. “You believe Hollow worth save. I believe in you.”

  “Why?”

  “I see you... soul. It... pure.”

  My skin raised in goosebumps. I reached across the desk and took Senka’s hand. “I see your soul, too. And it is pure. Even in the darkness, it is pure.”

  In my early days as an agent, I’d attended a few council meetings for some of my more “high profile” apprehensions. Prominent members of the community were given a full council hearing before their sentence was declared and punishment decided. After the first two dozen times, listening to the canned declarations and watching every single person or fae be given the death sentence, I stopped going. My presence wasn’t needed, and I had enough death on my hands without being privy to the others.

  I hadn’t given Warren another thought since he disappeared from my bed that morning. Not because he didn’t mean anything to me; he did. I liked him a lot. Maybe I cared about him and his stupid humor and that sexy grin. But even beyond my personal feelings for Warren, I’d begun to believe there was more to him than just what he believed. Senka’s darkness had no effect on him. He didn’t have walls like me or my mother. But he could touch her, even sleep in the same bed with her, and be completely unaffected by her presence.

  What could that mean for our people? The darkness was out there—it would always be out there. Senka could only do so much to keep us safe, which meant people would continue to court danger and die.

  But a niggling idea had blossomed: what if it were his special condition that allowed him to survive the darkness? He’d remained the same for years, not growing any darker like most. Could it be because of his parents? One normal, one shadow touched?

  He watched me from the gathered crowd in the back of the room. I had no idea how he’d known we had requested a council meeting, though I assumed it had something to do with dabbling between minutes and seconds like an artist of time and space.

  Everett called the meeting to order with a single ring of his bell. The council, seated on either side of him and uneven with Weston’s empty chair, hushed their conversations and faced us.

  Senka held my hand, giving me the calming presence I needed to tell my government that I could fix things if they’d let me sacrifice myself.

  Everett looked down his nose at me with his usual disdain. I thought of the times Lila had told me of their fights; the times she’d looked at me with bruises on her skin.

  Dr. Webster, gently touching the knot on her head and telling me without words that someone had done it.

  NO. Oh, gods. Oh, Senka.

  Everett had tried to kill Lila. It only took one sneer from him for me to see it.

  “Why are you here, Nez?” the Rein barked. “We’re in a state of crisis, and you bring that thing before us.”

  My astonishment over the puzzle pieces clicking together dissipated. I straightened and crossed my arms, biting back my accusations. “I want permission to return to the tomb with Senka. If I go, she’ll go. And maybe we can fix things together.”

  Everett laughed. “What makes you think you have anything it takes to hold back the dark?”

  Senka squeezed my hand, stopping my retort. “I know it,” she rasped. “Sisters.”

>   The council collectively gasped.

  I managed to hold mine in, but my surprise was no different. What was she saying? That I descended from Rasha?

  I felt Warren’s gaze on my back.

  “The tomb is in pieces,” Everett said, as if Senka hadn’t spoke. His council hadn’t forgotten, though. They watched Senka in fascination. Seeing her for the first time as a living, breathing fae, maybe.

  “Actually, it’s not,” Councilwoman Meade corrected. “The Reina ordered its reparation within hours of its destruction. Our maintenance team has already completed the job.”

  “She did?” Everett’s knuckles whitened on his pen. “How forward-thinking she is.”

  I didn’t deal with the Rein much, but I’d noticed a pattern with him: if Lila did something first, her actions pissed him off. I had a feeling he didn’t like how the people relied more heavily on Lila than they did on him.

  “We will need some time to convene privately and discuss the matter,” Everett spoke again, smoothly covering his prior irritation.

  Councilwoman Meade lifted a gray eyebrow. “What is there to discuss, Rein? Maurelle is offering us a solution to the problem. Senka herself endorses the solution.”

  “Because we do not make decisions in this chamber without discussion!” Everett barked. His blond hair had come loose from its bun and fell into his crystal eyes. His eyes had a taste of wildness to them, as if the councilwoman’s question had unhinged him.

  As the crowd exited the council chamber, I searched faces for Warren, only to find he’d done another disappearing act. I tried not to care that he was mad at me. I failed.

  Senka and I sat on a bench outside the chamber doors. She still held my hand, an anchor to here and now, but also to the past.

  A tall, thin woman with frizzy yellow hair and a haggard face approached us. She clutched her pocketbook to her navel, her red nails worrying at the aged leather. She met my gaze. “May I... may I speak to her?”

  Taken aback, I nodded. “Be my guest. Just don’t touch her.”

  The woman fell to her knees at our feet. “Princess. It is an honor. My mother met you when you came to us. She spoke of her encounter with you for the rest of her life. You told her to never give up, because she was destined to be a mother. She was 49 when she finally gave birth to me. I owe you my life.”

  The woman ignored my instructions and reached out to touch Senka’s bare toes.

  Before I could speak, Senka laid her hand on my bare arm and gave a minute shake of her head. “Walls,” she whispered over the woman’s tears. “Use your walls.”

  I bricked up one-by-one, encompassing me and Senka. I’d never tried to protect another person before, much less created a wall to keep the darkness in rather than out.

  But it worked.

  Senka leaned forward and gently took the woman’s shaking hands from the floor. She helped her sit up and looked her in the eye. “You owe... me nothing.”

  A crowd had gathered during the interaction. The woman thanked Senka and walked away, wiping tears from her smile, and a young man approached.

  As the council deliberated behind closed doors, Senka spoke in her raspy, halting way to every person who came to kneel at her feet. I remained silent beside her, my hand on the bare skin of her back above the neckline of her dress so that I could hold our walls in place.

  When the chamber door opened again, Senka was speaking in low tones to an older woman with long gray braids. Everett stepped into the hall.

  “Nez. A word.” He nodded at Senka. “Privately.”

  “I can’t leave her.”

  The older woman kneeling at our feet patted my knee. “I’ll sit with her, love. It would be my honor.”

  “If I leave, you shouldn’t touch her,” I warned.

  The woman nodded. “We will be safe.”

  I followed Everett into the empty chamber. The council must have departed after making their decision, which kind of sucked. At least Councilwoman Meade had been on my side. Without her shrewd support, I felt exposed.

  Everett leaned against the podium instead of circling behind his desk. He sneered as he said, “You are cleared to accompany Senka to the grave.”

  The way he said it seemed so... final. Grave.

  He plowed on. “However, I have some information you might be interested in. Some loose ends you could tie up for us before you go. Loose ends you’ll want to tie up.”

  Intriguing. “What loose ends?”

  “We know who murdered Maurice.”

  25

  They know who killed my brother.

  Other than my mother’s cutting reminders, I'd managed to bury Rice’s murder beneath Senka. Finding his murderer had played second fiddle to keeping Senka—and the Hollow—safe.

  My grief boiled to the surface, hotter than ever.

  “Someone Weston hired?” I asked when I found my voice again.

  “No. Weston wasn’t involved.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Rice caught Weston at the encampment. Those pictures would have been a death sentence to the councilman. So he put a hit out on Rice.”

  Everett shrugged. “The perpetrator identified by the SEA is in no way connected to Weston. Not that we can see. The man is a leader in one of the shadow touched encampments.”

  I tried to maintain hold of the tenuous threads of my former beliefs. I couldn’t understand how Rice’s murder could be random. The hooded guy chose our apartment. Went straight to Rice’s room. Not our neighbor’s apartment. Not anyone downstairs. Not my bedroom.

  Our apartment. Rice's room.

  “Is it because of who I am?” I asked softly.

  “The thought had occurred to me. A strike at the Reaper. You haven’t done yourself any favors by being such a bitch.”

  I was more surprised he knew my nickname than at his underhanded insult. Honestly, the idea that Everett knew anything about me beyond my name unnerved me.

  I knew I shouldn't trust the rein. If my intuition and Dr. Webster's expertise were to be believed, Everett had put Lila in that hospital bed. He’d opposed my presence in the council meeting, and openly scoffed at my plan. So why believe him?

  But also—why would he lie?

  My gut clenched at my predicament. I could call Shana. Get an update, an outside reassurance that Everett wasn’t fucking with me.

  “What’s it gonna be, Nez?” Everett pressed, face bored. “You can’t do it, I’m gonna have to track down someone else. I don't care one way or another.”

  “One last apprehension before I go?”

  “Not an apprehension,” Everett said. “An assassination.”

  I wanted to leave Senka with Warren, but he hadn’t returned for the verdict. Not that I’d seen, at any rate. Everett had offered an SEB rookie to sit with her while I was gone. As much as I hated the thought, it was my only option.

  When I explained to her where I was going and why, she only had one question for me: “Do you believe him?”

  I stared at her, not the least bit surprised he had pinged her intuition. “He’s the Rein.”

  Senka bit her lower lip. “Being a... leader does not promise truth.”

  “You think he’s lying?”

  She shook her head. “I think you should be... careful.”

  Senka’s declaration stayed with me as I picked up more ammo from the vault before heading to my Ducati in the parking garage.

  I’d never liked Everett. I hated the way he pushed Lila around—though, to be fair, Lila did an even amount of pushing him around, too. He struck me as controlling, manipulative, and power hungry. But other than be rude to Lila, and to me by default because she was my best friend, he hadn’t proven to be a bad ruler.

  But I’d never expected a councilman to fall to the shadows, either.

  This Hollow was my life. Every minute of my existence lived and breathed keeping it safe and protected. A week ago, that had meant tracking down the shadow touched and bringing them in, dead or alive. But now...


  My concept of right and wrong had twisted up inside me. Warren was shadow touched, but he was a good man, the darkness balanced by the light inside him, maybe, from his mixed parentage. Councilman Weston had served on the council for dozens of years. I didn’t know him personally, but I’d seen him around, and he always seemed quick with a smile and a kind word. But in the end, he was shadow touched, and the council hadn’t said a word about it. The rumor mill buzzed with Weston’s death, but our government hadn’t made any kind of formal statement.

  Now, Senka’s concern that Everett might be playing me, coupled with my own sense of distrust. How better to do that than to manipulate my emotions over my brother’s death?

  Who was the enemy anymore?

  In the silence of the parking garage, I dialed Shana's Com. Any bit of reassurance from her would curb my unease.

  Her voice crackled from the Com. “Hey, I’m drowning in a ten-fifty, two dead. Call you back?”

  Fatal traffic accident. We didn’t have a lot of those in Senka Hollow.

  “You know anything about a possible suspect in Rice’s murder?”

  “I heard some possibilities at the last debrief. Then the quake hit, and Senka… Suffice it to say, my workload shifted.”

  “Call me later,” I told her, and hoped it wouldn’t be too late to say goodbye.

  The Fifth Encampment was as far away from the Res as a girl could get, clear across the Hollow. Several months had passed since I’d had a run out this way—the eastern encampments weren’t known for harboring many problems, and I tended to stay close to the Res, leaving other agents to handle this side of the world.

  I had an unfamiliar name and a cabin number. Considering I found myself there in broad daylight, I glamoured my body to mask my presence, and slipped among the shadow touched unseen.

  Nerves had never been an issue for me. I wasn’t afraid to die. Joining the Bureau meant you worked the toughest cases and saw a lot of fucked up shit. I signed up for this career. Happily.

  But something about this felt wrong.