Haunted by Shadows: Magic Wars: Demons of New Chicago Book Two

by Carpenter, Kel

  “Do it?” she repeated. “Out here? Where it’s below freezing, and you almost died—oh and let’s not forget that someone is out to kill one or both of you?” She snorted again when I looked away. Maybe she had a point.

  Not that I was going to tell her that. Nope.

  I turned on my heel and walked in the opposite direction.

  That just seemed to make her laugh more.

  “Are you seriously mad at me right now?” she asked, jogging to keep up beside me.

  “No.”

  “No? You’re not mad?”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “You seem mad,” she said, as we walked two blocks down the street to where she parked.

  “If I was mad, you would know.”

  “Because you’d shoot me?” she mocked.

  “Yup.”

  By the time we got to her car, I was shaking from the cold. While the sweatshirt helped, it only did so much. My fingers were starting to turn blue by the time the heater actually got going. Nathalie paused at the wheel before pulling out onto the road.

  “I know you’re busy being not mad right now,” she started. “But I just wanted you to know, I’m really glad you didn’t drown tonight.”

  I side-eyed her, waiting for the rest.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’m waiting for the part where you crack a dumb joke and then laugh obnoxiously because you find it funny.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Way to ruin a moment.”

  “That was not a moment,” I deadpanned. “We were not having a moment.”

  “We so were,” she said, looking to the road as she pulled out. “And for the record, so were you and Ronan. He may be a demon and have this whole alpha male vibe going on, but he sees you.”

  “What happened to you staying out of it?” I snapped. She lifted her hands off the wheel in mock surrender and the car swerved. I glared at her, and she righted it while chuckling.

  “I am. Mostly. It’s not like I’m telling you to bond with him—you agreed to that all on your own there.”

  “He’s got my sister,” I reminded her. Nathalie shrugged.

  “You kidnapped me and I’m still around,” she pointed out. I was not nearly as amused as she seemed to be. “I’m just saying, if you’ve got an itch to scratch, he’s the one I’d be wanting to scratch it.”

  I sighed. “I just want my sister back and to find a way to wake her up. That’s it. Whatever else happens . . . it’s all a means to an end.”

  I hoped. The truth was, I would do anything for Bree. But when this was all over . . . I knew there was no way Ronan would walk away, and every time I saw him, I was more convinced.

  But these were the cards I had. The choices I could make to save her. As long as that happened, I could figure the rest out later.

  Or rather, figure out how to deal with him when the time came.

  3

  Ronan

  My blood hummed. My flesh tingled.

  She said yes.

  The second blood exchange was in sight, and easier to grasp than I’d thought—but first I had to find out who blew up that dinner boat, and what their intentions were.

  If Piper’s life was in danger . . . I had to eliminate the threat.

  If it were just me they were after, well, my mysterious assailants were in for grave disappointment. Demons and monsters that could tear this world asunder had tried and failed. This would be no different.

  I stepped through the void and into the penthouse apartment I’d collected from the Coven Antares. The lights of the city illuminated the living space through the wall of glass that went out to a small balcony. I moved about the space, comfortable but not truly at home as I poured myself a glass of scotch.

  “Someone tried to kill me tonight. Me and Piper,” I mentally communicated to the boy. He wasn’t truly a servant, but close enough. He’d traded his will for power. His freedom for more magic. Ultimately, it was his decency he gave up. In letting me into his mind, I was privy to things about the witch that I never would have allowed if the roles were reversed and it was Piper I was asked to spy on—but that was humans for you. Their greed ran deep, supernatural or not. At their core, they were human, and therefore fallible.

  “Is Nat alright?” he asked, anxiety edging his mind instantly.

  “She’s fine, but I need you to go to the pier and see if you can find any residual magic and trace it. Keep your head down. Don’t attract attention. Have you heard anything in the Underworld about this?”

  I knew he hadn’t. He would have reported otherwise. Our bargain and the magic that formed it would have compelled him. Still, something wasn’t adding up, and I felt the need to ask.

  “No, nothing. People are still focused on Lucifer missing.”

  As was I. My brother didn’t just simply disappear without a trace. Just like dinner boats didn’t just explode. Something was going on. Pieces were being moved on a board, but the game itself was evading me.

  “Let me know if that changes.”

  “Of course,” came his immediate reply.

  I sipped at my scotch. Savoring the salty brine undertones for a few suspended moments. While this flesh was not like my previous form, it had some pleasures on its own. I could see why Lucifer was able to make a life here and enjoy it.

  The human weakness was its own flesh.

  Just as a demon’s was its soul.

  I set the glass aside and made my way toward the shower, needing one after the dip I took in the lake. I paused at the second bedroom and stuck my head inside.

  Bree Fallon lay utterly unconscious, her light brown hair spilling over the pillow. Her limbs were exactly as I’d left them. It was only the bauble around her neck that Piper had paid for with all their family savings that kept her body alive and muscles from wasting into atrophy.

  Convinced she was undisturbed, I pulled away and closed the door behind me.

  I stripped the disgusting water-soaked clothes from my body as I walked. Peeling the layers of fabric from my skin until I was naked outside the shower. I stepped in and flipped the water on, unflinching against the cold spray.

  It cooled my blood. The need to hunt down the fuckers that dared put my atma at risk. The desire to kill anyone involved. But most importantly, my urge to go to Piper.

  She didn’t need me, I knew that. My woman was strong. She had a soul of blood and fire. An iron will. A mean streak that few could survive.

  Piper the woman held strong against the bond, even as her walls were starting to crack. Piper the demon was another case entirely, though she didn’t seem to realize it.

  I wanted them both, just as I wanted the second exchange.

  But first, I needed to find the fuckers involved, because if there was one thing I knew about my atma—it’s that she would be out for blood regardless of what I said.

  4

  I tossed and turned in my sleep, stuck in a place that existed between exhaustion and restlessness. My legs twisted in the sheets, and my hands skimmed the surface of the bed aimlessly. I was too hot. Too cold. Too tired to rise, but too wired to actually rest.

  In the back of my mind, I sensed a presence watching me. It was dark and shadowy. It stayed out of my dreams, dancing just around the edge of my mind, ever-present but unseen. In another time, another place, I might have thought myself paranoid. That I was imagining things. I’d entered two blood exchanges with two different demons, though, and I wasn’t imagining shit.

  It was only on the cusp of waking that the entity drifted closer, never taking form, but making itself known.

  He didn’t say anything, seeming content to simply occupy the same headspace as me. Even if only for a moment.

  I want Bree back, I thought into the void.

  My eyes opened as a response came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

  Be careful. I’ll come to you when I know it’s safe.

  I groaned.

  Safe. It was a stupid word. A meaningless use of four letters
. Safety was an illusion, one only the powerful could afford to be ignorant in. Being raised human, even if I wasn’t one anymore, meant I didn’t believe in such pretty delusions.

  I could die walking down the road at the wrong time in the wrong place.

  There was no fucking way I was letting a threat that was maybe targeting me, stop me from getting out there and finding my sister—especially when Ronan didn’t seem in any hurry now that he had me right where he wanted.

  I rolled over, groaning lightly when my joints popped. The sky was still a hazy shade of gray blue. Clear, but early. The sun wasn’t even completely out, but it would be soon.

  I dragged myself out of bed despite the pounding in my right temple begging me to stay. Cool air fanned the skin that my skimpy tank top did little to cover. I ran a hand down my arm, over the goosebumps, as I padded barefoot across the wood floors to the half dresser. It only took me a second to fish out a pair of loose black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. My sports bra was a harder find, and when I did, it was still damp from the unplanned swim I took the night before. I dropped the sopping material to the floor in favor of the only other bra I had that didn’t smell like mold and lake water. Changing quickly, I slipped out of my room, AKA Nathalie’s official guest room, and down the hall to pee and brush my teeth. Once my mouth tasted like grainy mint toothpaste, I headed back down the hall, my footsteps near silent on the wood floors. It was early enough Nathalie hadn’t risen yet, and from the little bit I really knew of her schedule, I had a feeling she wouldn’t for a while yet.

  I paused by the front door to put on socks and a new pair of sneakers Nat had bought me in her big shopping binge a few days prior. I was severely lacking in clothing due to the move from my old apartment to the cabin, and then here. When on the run, you take the bare essentials. While a few things like my beloved turtlenecks and underwear had made it, things like shoes and such were a goner. Being rich as fuck as she was, Nathalie went on an online shopping binge—a luxury only the wealthy could afford. Even the internet was a luxury. She bought me everything she deemed I needed, from sneakers to leather jackets to lingerie.

  I shook my head, thinking of the lace bits she’d presented to me, so proud of herself.

  Both cups combined might hold up my left tit, but that’s it. While sexy, their functionality left a lot to be desired. She insisted I needed sexy things, though, just in case a demon or two needed seducing.

  I rolled my eyes, thinking about how she told me that when all the boxes arrived later that afternoon. Because she hadn’t asked my permission, I didn’t feel as guilty accepting them from her. Besides, one of us was loaded, and the other wasn’t. The fact she even had access to the internet at all spoke to that. There was a time when anyone and everyone could access it, but after the Magic Wars, everything became more expensive. Electricity and electronics were already a luxury item, they just became a sign of wealth as well. Cell phones dropped off when magic was so prevalent, and nothing was secure. The ordinary person had to buy shit at a supermarket or know a guy these days. But not Nat, no, she had certain privileges. Money and magic being the most obvious.

  I grabbed a coat and one of the keys that would let me back in, then I slipped out the front door. I moved slowly, closing it behind me. When the mechanism on the handle whirred and the lock clicked shut, I breathed easier.

  Now for the last challenge.

  Making it out of the shop without any problems. I was most of the way down the hall when I paused mid-step at the squealing of a hinge. I glanced over my shoulder as a black cat darted out from Señora Rosara’s apartment open door. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, dark hair in a shower cap, and dressed in silk pajamas.

  “You were loud last night,” she said, offering no further explanation as to why she was confronting me in the hallway at the buttcrack of dawn.

  “We tried to keep it down,” I replied.

  “Hmm.” She pressed her lips together, not liking that response. “Nathalie wasn’t loud before you moved in.”

  “So you do know her name,” I mused, tilting my head while ignoring her statement. “And here I was wondering if dementia had kicked in, or if you simply didn’t care to use it.”

  Rage flashed in her expression. One moment she was standing at the door, and the next she was right in front of me. Despite my demonic powers and six inches of added height, I had a feeling she could give me a run for my money—if I wasn’t broke.

  “Now you listen here,” she hissed.

  I held up a hand to stop her.

  “Look, before you go on threatening to turn me into a cat, let’s just get this straight. You like your quiet. You like to not be disturbed. Believe it or not, I get that—and I try not to be loud when coming in or out, but we live in a shithole. This entire country is one bad thing away from being classified as hell on earth. Sometimes, shit happens. If you don’t want to hear us, spell the building for silence so you don’t have to. Or soundproof your walls. Or play music—I don’t really care. I’ll never try to inconvenience you, but I’m not tiptoeing around you like she does either.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed, and she hummed under her breath once more. “I don’t like you,” she said.

  “I’m aware.”

  “I told her you’d be trouble.”

  “Maybe she needs a little trouble so people will stop walking all over her,” I said with a pointed look, crossing my own arms over my chest. The black cat started winding its way around my legs, brushing up against me. I wasn’t sure if that was its version of begging for help, or if it was warning me about prodding the witch.

  The older woman cracked a smile.

  “Perhaps.” In the blink of an eye, she disappeared from in front of me and was back at her door. Señora Rosara leaned over and picked up the black cat. It purred loudly, big violet eyes staring at me. “Keep her safe. And don’t drink the coffee, you’ll need it.”

  I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant, but the door slammed shut.

  I blinked once, the irony of it not lost on me. I shook my head as I stepped into the elevator. The ride was short, and the shop below was empty as I navigated my way through it. A more curious person would look through the various items, anything from voodoo dolls to glowing orbs filled with magic. Shadows moved in this place, though, shadows I was pretty sure were actually her ever-watchful cats. How many she had, I wasn’t sure. But I wasn’t interested in becoming one of them.

  I kept my eyes and my hands to myself as I made my way through the crowded shop, careful not to bump into anything. The shop door pealed like wind chimes when I opened it, despite the fact there weren’t any. I stepped outside, taking a second to breathe in the crisp air. The cold heightened my senses. It stripped me of any false senses of security, reminding me to be alert. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and balled them into fists as I walked down the cracked sidewalk. There were a few stragglers out this time of day, but like me, they were minding their own.

  Two blocks down, there was a coffee shop that I’d been going to for the last few days. While Nathalie was capable of making the stuff, it was a good spot to watch. To learn. I stepped inside and ordered my usual: black drip, no cream, no sugar.

  I waited next to the window at one of the high barstools. The shop was full swing this morning. Not many cafes could boast being packed at dawn these days, but this one could. That’s why I came to it.

  Walking all over New Chicago wouldn’t yield me anything but sore feet and possibly getting mugged. Without a job, my cash flow was limited to Nathalie’s generosity and the couple thousand I had in my wallet, which meant paying someone for information wasn’t an option either. That left the only other practical solution when trying to keep a low profile. Listening.

  But that wasn’t the only reason I was here today.

  No . . . I needed answers, and I needed them soon if I was going to get Ronan to move ahead with the second blood exchange. So here I was, sitting in the crowded coffee shop . . . as
bait.

  I leaned back, pretending to watch nothing in particular as I stared at the reflection in the window of what was going on behind me. A few figures were milling about next to the pickup counter. That, in itself, wasn’t unusual.

  I waited, and when they called my name, I didn’t immediately jump to my feet.

  Don’t drink the coffee. Isn’t that what Señora Rosara said? I had to wonder if the old bat had some sort of sight. She didn’t strike me as the type to hire goons to follow me and know where I went every morning when not even Nathalie knew.

  A few seconds passed, and when no one reached for the coffee, I frowned.

  Sliding off the chair, my sneakers let out a squeak as I landed softly against the cement floors. I strolled over to the counter, not in a hurry. The barista’s back was already turned as she started on the next drink, leaving it up to me to claim mine or have it stolen.

  I grabbed the cup, wrapping my fingers around it. The heat warmed my numbing fingers through the cardboard hand holder. Instead of going back to my seat and listening to the latest gossip about the Underworld and New Chicago, I stepped outside.

  Wind rattled the windows as it funneled down the tight streets, bouncing off of building fronts as it looked for a way out. I turned left, going in the opposite direction of the apartment.

  My heart rate picked up, but deep, even breathing kept it under control. My feet moved on their own accord, knowing not to go too fast or slow.

  I was careful not to fidget much, and even if I couldn’t be at ease, I could pretend I was. Stuffing one hand in my jacket pocket, I wandered aimlessly, pretending to have a destination in mind.

  Only when I felt eyes on me did I start to actively look at where I was going.

  I needed somewhere quiet. Undisturbed. Something like . . .

  Bingo.

  I paused at the edge of the sidewalk, not looking behind me, though I sensed someone there. I crossed the street quickly and then slipped in the alley.