Shadowed Fire (Veil of Midnight Book 1)

by A. Vers

  With his hair a more common blond and his eyes more gray than silver, he could pass for a twenty-two year old male model. And he draws the attention of one.

  Nix is no better.

  His previously crimson hair is now the jet-black from Midnight and in a casual sweep across his eyes. Thicker chunks of crimson rest in the disheveled tendrils, adding an edge of mystery. Twin earrings pierce his ear, and they twinkle in the street lights. He traded his cloak for jeans and a threadbare t-shirt that barely covers his muscle or the now black tattoos on his arms.

  I had to work up the nerve to ask where he kept his sword, to which he had raised his arm, revealing a charm bracelet with miniature daggers and an identical replica of his main blade. But he hasn’t spoken a word since the transit.

  Walking between them is like being sequestered between a volcano and a wildfire. My face stays perpetually hot, searing me until I am light headed.

  They both seem to know where to go though, tramping through the streets to the edge of a giant park lined in trees. The leaves are in all the rays of a sunset with the change of the season.

  I trail along, huddling in my new jacket.

  Earth is colder than I expected. With all the illusions in the Void, I’ve never experienced a human fall. It’s cool, crisp, and pungent. Every breeze carries with it amazing fragrances from the shops we are leaving behind. Sweet, savory, and delectable scents.

  And if it wasn’t for the traffic or the noise, Earth would be somewhere I could envision staying for a time.

  We step on the narrow pathway into the park, and a flash of shadow behind me makes me turn around.

  But the concrete is empty. Devoid of everything but a few stray leaves. I turn back around and hurry to catch up with the guys.

  After a few feet, soft footfalls sound behind me. I stiffen, ears straining. Something icy, like the breath of death, creeps over my neck and I whirl.

  Nothing.

  My heart hammers, sure there was someone there. A human mugger maybe?

  I ease back around, stroking the cabochon on my wrist. With quiet coaxing and a gentle thrum of power, a tendril of magick trails behind us, tasting the air.

  There.

  Shit.

  I ease forward, grabbing Chol’s hand and slipping my arm around Nix’s waist. Better not to interfere with his sword hand.

  “Guys, not that I’m against an evening stroll…” I murmur. “But we’re being followed.” The last is a bare whisper.

  Nix pulls me tighter against him, easing Chol closer as well. He dips his head toward mine. “They trailed us from the transit.” His heat curves around me, and, for a moment, I swear he is inhaling the scent of my hair. But no. Not Nix. “The path divides ahead,” he continues. “Take Chol into the trees. I’m going to slip around behind them.”

  My pulse thunders, but I turn my face into his. Nix’s eyes, now a human cognac, widen at the closeness. “Remember, if you get hurt, I’ll kill you.” My tone is tooth-achingly sweet, but I can’t look away from him. Couldn’t turn my head if I wanted to.

  Something pulses between us. Call it passion or electricity. Whatever. It’s there. At least on my part.

  His lips tremor. “I like it when you get murderous.” He pulls away, play shoving Chol.

  Chol laughs and pushes him back. I squeak in girlish alarm, grab the Prince’s hand, and run off, laughing. But I can’t quite emulate the prince’s easy, carefree tone.

  Sure enough, the path forks back towards the city and a small grove of maples and conifers offer a wall of vegetation. I press Chol between the branches, already weaving under my breath.

  With all the technology of Earth, my magick is hard to pull. The shield seems to thin and crack as soon as I raise it. But it stays in place. Sweat beads on my brow, and I force Chol behind me, dagger in hand.

  There is a masculine grunt and something hard falls onto the pavement with a smack. Then there is only silence.

  I leave Chol in the shield and peer out. Nix shoves his hair back from his face and holds out his other hand, cautioning me.

  He unclips one of the daggers from his bracelet and it grows longer and darker as I watch. With the tip of his boot, he rolls the figure over and presses the obsidian blade into the chin of a rather young male.

  The same one from the transit.

  The kid raises his hands, slowly, eyes wide. “Please,” he murmurs. “I was told to follow you. To see where you went. I’m not even sure why I agreed. Technically I’m not allowed on earth.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  The kid peers at me. He blinks and a secondary eyelid flows over his gaze. “Levithan. Class 3,” he says.

  I look at Nix in confusion.

  “On Earth, most demons can’t come through unless they can portal on their own. Anything below a Class 12 has to be summoned since they don’t have the power to cross alone.”

  My eyes dip back to the male. “Who told you to follow us?”

  He stiffens. For a moment, I think he refuses to answer.

  “Ugly chap. Wearing all black with these marks on his face. Gave me a pass topside and said as long as I sent a deimonette back on where you are, he wouldn’t report my crossing.” He looks between us. “There is this kick-ass concert in the park--I couldn’t pass it up,” he admits sheepishly.

  Nix rolls his eyes and moves away, though the blade never leaves his hand.

  I walk over to him. “What do we do?”

  He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “We stick to the plan,” he says. “We get Chol to the consulate and take concert boy with us. They will know what to do with him.”

  The kid grumbles behind us, but he makes no move to run. Though that could have something to do with the blade Nix has pointed at him.

  I exhale. “Okay. Which way to the consulate?”

  Ѻ

  As it turns out, the Inter-dimensional Consulate for Racial Affairs, ICRA for short, is an older church in downtown New York.

  I stare up at the gothic towers, gargoyles, high fence, and the wardings with a sick feeling in my stomach. One I cannot let myself feel.

  Nix hauls the levithan demon up to the front stairs and the kid balks.

  “It’s consecrated ground,” he says, twisting and contorting to get away. “I can’t go in there.”

  Nix’s hand tightens. “You will and you are.” He jerks his chin to the door.

  I grab one of the thick metal loops and knock.

  The door yawns inward on squealing hinges. Nix shoves the kid inside onto the spacious black marble floor. He sprawls, palms slapping the stone hard.

  Pounding footsteps echo from each side of the cavernous room. Within moments, heavily armed men and women barrel into the space, weapons drawn and pointed at the four of us.

  Nix stills, twin blades now in his hands as he presses Chol and I back.

  A younger woman, with dark hair and soul piercing green eyes surveys us with a fast sweep of her gaze. “Identify yourselves!”

  Chol steps up behind me. “Chol Delan—”

  “Chol?”

  “Sayah?”

  Two women and one man, all heartbreakingly familiar, push to the front of the group. Mother speeds over the marble, her eyes wide and a touch of relief mixing with real fear.

  Fear for me.

  “Sayah.” She grips my face, turning me this way and that. “What—How—Why are you here?”

  Marlec Delancre shoves past us, grabbing up Chol in a hug that leaves him gasping.

  “Mother. Please,” he mutters.

  She steps back, albeit reluctantly. Out of the corner of my eye, Erem clasps Nix’s forearm in a tight grip, bringing their foreheads together. Nix murmurs something to him, his voice almost reverent. Trusting.

  It twists something inside of me, but I can’t call the emotion jealousy. More like affection and happiness for the Hallows.

  Mother turns back to the consulate, motioning them to lower their weapons. “My daughter and Midnight ambassador, Sa
yah Nieddu, Prince Chol Delancre, and Phoenix Lament.”

  I peer at Nix as his name rings through the foyer like the bells of war. Most of the consulate stares wide-eyed and a little fearful at the younger, glamoured male. He takes every gaze in stride, chin high.

  My fingers ache to grip his arm. To show him that I see beyond that deadly outer layer.

  Mother nudges me with a sharp glance. I cough, remembering my place.

  Stepping forward, I gaze at the dark-haired woman who appears to be in charge. “The Midnight Embassy was attacked.” Mother’s breathing stops next to me. “It was like a dark wave. These things—these beings poured out of it. We had to fight back.”

  Murmurs run through the room.

  “I managed to sequester Prince Chol into our vault while Nix—Phoenix and I fought off the darkness.”

  The woman holds up a hand. “You fought it off? How?”

  Mother’s hold on my arm tightens.

  I know that she knows. There is no other way we could have burned it off. But lying now will prove I have lied to both men since the attack. That I’ve hidden more than they know. But I have no choice.

  Gulping, I meet her eyes. “The wards. I used the wards to drive it back.”

  Nix stiffens, the motion almost imperceptible to others. But it makes my stomach turn.

  “It depleted every reserve to get it out.” I glance at Mother. “Father’s magick and all of mine.”

  Her expression grows pinched.

  “We had barely begun to recover when a group of assassins came to the embassy. It was all we could do to get Chol out. We’ve been running ever since.”

  “The convergence at Fent is no more,” I add. “We had to come topside by way of Hemlock. There were a few incidents…” I look at Chol and Nix, unwilling to voice their injuries. “Otherwise we would have been here by now.”

  Nix points to the levithan demon. “He was given an illegal pass topside to follow us. Their leader…” His head shakes and he turns to Erem. “It’s Rorick.”

  Erem stares at his prodigy. “Are you sure?”

  Nix nods, the motion stiff.

  Rorick?

  Marlec and the Hallows move toward the consulate leader, the latter tugging Chol along with them. Something about the name nags at me.

  “Rorick?” I mutter.

  Mother appears saddened. “He was a Hallow once upon a time. A great warrior, like Erem and Nix.” She sighs. “He is also Nix’s father.”

  My world tilts on its access. “What?”

  “He brought Nix into the brotherhood at a very young age. Was meant to train him hisself. But after his wife and daughter died in a beast attack, Rorick was never the same. He blamed Nix, I think, for not protecting them. But he was but a babe then. A boy barely three years in age.”

  Rorick’s words at the embassy comes back to me. ‘The bastard killed my wife and daughter.’

  That same sense of wrongness invades my being. I cannot rationalize the male I know with a cold-blooded killer. Cannot, in fact, picture Nix killing his mother or sister. No matter his mission.

  “Why would he blame Nix, though?” I murmur.

  Mother, seemingly unhearing, steers me towards the consulate leader.

  The woman exhales and turns to Marlec. “It seems even the Void is not safe. I will send for Mage Velnor. He may still be inclined to help.”

  “Help? Help how?” I ask.

  The woman blinks, like she is noticing me for the first time. “If we can shield Prince Delancre from his power, he will be untraceable. But it’s old magick,” she says offhandedly.

  “It’s not just old,” I say, heart slamming in my ribs. “It’s forbidden.”

  Chol peers at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  The Consul glowers. “She is a child, she knows nothing.” Her eyes flash. “Silence, girl.”

  “I know more than you think,” I hiss. “I’ve studied magick since I was a child. You’re talking about a Novendo. A Nulling weave to take his magick. Permanently.”

  Chol looks at his mother. “Is that true?”

  Marlec shifts. “In not so dramatic terms, yes.”

  Chol goes pale, no easy feat for his tan skin. “No magick? Ever?”

  Marlec Delancre presses her hand to his face. “Hear her out, Chol. Please,” she begs. He pulls away.

  The Consul remains poised. “You could retain one bloodline, if you wish. So perhaps your incubus heritage…” She peers between the Delancres like she offers door one and door two for their consideration. “You would be weaker than you are now, near human in strength and appearance on Earth. But your other alternative is death.”

  In a blink, Nix has his sword out and leveled at her throat. His eyes shed the human glamour like flames devouring his irises. “Is that a threat?” he snarls.

  Weapons clear holsters, and I throw up a shield around us as fast as I can conjure it.

  The Consul holds up a hand, and the room goes quiet. Deathly still.

  She appraises Nix with a shockingly mild expression beyond the glow. “You have been on the run for four years, Mr. Lament. Out of everyone, I would think you would be the most relieved to know there is a solution to your…dilemma. And considering you have barely managed to keep him alive, this is more than generous on my behalf.”

  Nix’s teeth bare.

  I’m across the distance between us before I even realize I am moving. My fingers close over the rigid muscle in his forearm, and the glowing blue of my shield seems to solidify. His skin is hotter than normal, pulsing with power even beneath the glamour.

  “Nix.”

  He stiffens.

  Thinking I overstepped, I start to move back, to give him space. He glances at me, bright eyes searching my face for someone who understands how much Chol means to him. Someone who cares for him as much as he does.

  My heart tries to burst, to go to him. To convey that we are in agreement.

  “We will protect him,” I whisper, voice hoarse with understanding, only where he can hear. “No matter what. Against whomever we need to.” Still he hesitates. I squeeze harder and flick my eyes to the Consul and Lady Marlec. “Against whomever we need to.”

  In that moment, I draw a line between both sides. Ours, and theirs. It’s not intentional, not meant to hurt anyone. But they won’t hurt either male with me around.

  Ever.

  His muscular frame trembles, but his sword arm begins to lower. I don’t let an ounce of relief fill my face, instead I urge him back next to Chol. Once level with the Prince and the friend he will give up all else for, the last vestiges of his tension flees.

  I glance between both men, gauging their composure. Chol is a bit green, his expression tight, but he appears no worse for the wear.

  “The Novendo can drain one line of his power. It can make it where he can have a normal life,” Mother says into the silence.

  Their gazes lock with mine. I hesitate but incline my head. Truth. “You both can be free,” I hedge, trying to remain calm.

  Marlec nods out of my peripheral, face blanched and her eyes too big. “A chance to not run in fear, my son. To be safe. Always.”

  Chol swallows hard, rubbing at the back of his neck. He turns to the Consul. “Can we have some time to talk about this?” He looks at Nix and myself. “The three of us?”

  Marlec Delancre stumbles back, but Chol doesn’t appear to notice. Or maybe he does, and he doesn’t care.

  From the sound of things, Marlec Delancre was already on board with the Consulate’s decision. Whether Chol likes it or not.

  Mother coughs softly. “Of course. There are rooms upstairs. You must all be exhausted and weary from your journey.” She motions to an elevator recessed into the far wall. “Go take a shower and relax for a moment. We are safe here for the time being. There is no need to rush such an important decision.”

  When she looks at Marlec and the Consul, Lady Delancre jumps like she’s been prodded.

  Her tan face flushes. �
�Of course.” She turns to her son. “Go ahead. We will send for Mage Velnor in the event you have any further questions.”

  The Consul crosses her arms, a trace of cold malice spilling from her eyes. “Yes, please.” There is nothing welcoming in her voice or posture, and I can’t bring myself to care.

  A searing press lands along my spine. I glance over at Nix, but his gaze remains fixed on the consulate warriors. “Elevator,” is all he says.

  I grab Chol’s hand and pull.

  Mother’s eyes widen at my easy acceptance into their group, or maybe their touch, and I choose to ignore that too.

  We walk to the elevator, and, as the doors close, Mother’s worried stare is the last thing I see.

  Chapter 26

  The first empty room we come to, Nix urges us inside and motions Chol to help him move the armoire in front of the door.

  I stand in the middle of the dimly lit space, taking in the large four poster bed and open doorway to a visible bathroom.

  “Do you think that’s necessary?” I ask, arms around my waist as they slide the hutch into place. Personally, I don’t disagree with his effort, I just need to hear him say it.

  Nix leans back against the wooden doors and shoves both hands into his glamoured dark hair. I want the illusion gone.

  Will the real Nix please come forward.

  “At this point…” he amends, “humor me.”

  Chol perches at the foot of the bed, arms resting over his thighs and his stare vacant. “My power,” he breathes. “They want to take away my power.”

  Nix and I exchange a glance before I cross over the floor to crouch in front of the Prince.

  “Chol, you don’t have to do this,” I start. “We can figure something else out. We can—”

  “What, Sayah?” he asks with more sharpness than he has ever used toward me. “We can do what?”

  He stands, putting distance between us as he paces. “For four years we have been on the run. Hiding in cities and towns until they all blurred. Days in one, nights in others.” His head shakes. “Midnight was the first time we woke up the same place the next day.”

  “I know, but—”