Shadowdance: The Darkest London Series: Book 4

by Kristen Callihan

Jack’s conviction made him strong. “Because that woman loves me. Because my family, my true family, loves me. That is why I am worthy. Because they are the most worthy, brave, loyal people I know. And if they see something in me that is worth loving, despite my many flaws, then that is all the proof I need.” He took a step closer. “It is all I need.”

  He was loved. And it wasn’t going to be taken away.

  “She is my slave.” Amaros grinned. “Any loving Miss Chase shall be doing will be with me.”

  Jack laughed without humor. “Bloody hell, I never thought I’d see the day a fallen was led about by his cock.”

  Amaros leaned forward in his chair. “You’re here because of your cock, boy.”

  “No, I’m here because of love. Do you love her?”

  Amaros snorted.

  “I did not believe so,” Jack said. “So now I’m wondering why you hesitate to take my blood. Tell me, Amaros, are you afraid that it will harm your new GIM body?”

  “A nice ploy, my boy.” Amaros leaned back in his chair and hauled Mary closer. “However, since you insist on taunting, I believe we can accommodate your desire to give up your blood. Call your sacrifice a gesture of good faith. Then I shall consider the matter.”

  Jack stood still as two raptors approached him. One female and one male. They hummed in appreciation as they drew near. The first touch crawled over his skin. He kept his gaze upon Mary.

  “I remember you,” said the male. A cold tongue touched Jack’s ear, and he flinched. “Do you remember me?”

  Nausea rolled within him. “Yes.” Too well.

  A little laugh rumbled in his ear. Then those vile lips were on his neck. He did not cry out as fangs broke his skin and the taut pulls began. He kept his attention on Mary. For her he could endure anything. But he had underestimated his resolve in one fatal way.

  Amaros’s hand dug beneath Mary’s bodice. And Jack’s world went red.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The moment the fallen touched her, Mary knew what would happen. But she hadn’t expected the ferocity of Jack’s response. His nostrils flared wide and, in the next instant, he burst free of his tormentors with a roar of sheer rage. His bloodstained shirt fluttered to the floor as a pair of massive black wings appeared on his back with a crisp snap.

  There was a moment’s silence and then chaos as Jack ripped into the demons with fangs and claws. None of them had a chance. They were paper dolls in his hands, torn asunder in a blur of fury.

  Beside her, Amaros simply laughed as the blood flowed and the demons scrambled to get away.

  She had to get to Jack, tell him what needed to be done. And then she needed to die. She’d known that the minute she’d made her bargain. Unfortunately, since she was a slave, there was only one way to get close to Jack. Mary eyed Amaros. Arrogance had been the downfall of many a better male than this one. Mary would use it now, and pray that he took the bait.

  “He’ll be coming for you,” she said to him. God, she wanted to claw the fallen’s eyes out, slice into him the way Jack was cutting through those who’d tormented him.

  “Oh yes,” Amaros said with another chuckle. “And I’ll suck him dry and eat his marrow.”

  “You promised not to harm him.” Tell me to do it. Make me suffer. She knew Amaros was cruel enough to consider pitting Mary against Jack. He only needed a little motivation.

  A sly smile twisted over his face. “I may have neglected to tell you, my dear, but blood bonds will not hold me, for I am already mortally cursed.”

  Her hopes plummeted for an instant. Then she changed her course, trying again. Whatever it took, she would get to Jack.

  “He did this for me.” She glanced down, letting a tear fall. With wide eyes she looked up at him, even as she struggled to evade his touch, which only inflamed him. His grip grew painful, and she flinched again. “Please,” she begged in a breathy voice. “Please stop this. I cannot bear it. I will do anything.”

  “You will do anything regardless.”

  As if he heard them, Jack’s wild gaze focused on them, and he bared his teeth in a snarl. Gone was any trace of the man she knew and loved. He was pure rage now. And when he stalked toward them, his massive fists curled tight.

  Still smiling, Amaros let her go and stood, predictable in his arrogance. “You can’t kill me, boy. But I am happy to play.”

  They crashed into each other with a loud smack and tumbled to the ground. And Mary waited for the perfect moment to strike.

  Jack relished the pain of Amaros’s hit. His body absorbed it and then he lashed out, smashing into the fallen’s face with all his strength. Bones snapped and blood sprayed. He did not wait but hit again, aiming for the fragile glass window that protected the fallen’s heart. But Amaros was quick and countered with an uppercut. Jack’s head snapped back, blood filling his mouth. He swallowed it down and whirled, jabbing Amaros’s exposed ribs, hearing them crack, before he ducked under an oncoming blow.

  Not fast enough. Amaros caught his arm and, in one move, broke it at the elbow. Jack bellowed, pain slicing through him. His useless arm flopped down, and the fallen’s eyes shone bright with victory. Jack lashed back, realizing that it was his wing he’d used. The massive appendage caught Amaros on the head, and he staggered. Jack used the moment to bring his knee up. Hard. Into the fallen’s bollocks. A low move, but he didn’t care for shit about honor. Destroy or die trying. That was all that mattered now. Not a bloody curse. Mary’s freedom meant more than any suffering he’d face.

  The fallen crumbled, and Jack launched himself onto him, grabbing hold of one glossy feathered wing and pulling with all his might. A meaty, tearing sound filled his ears as Amaros screamed and the fallen’s wing ripped free. Hot blood sprayed Jack’s face as he landed a sharp kick to Amaros’s jaw.

  “Jack!”

  Mary’s shout halted him. She was striding toward him, something metal in her hand, her face a mask of determination. “Stop.”

  Stop? Not bloody likely. Something deep within told him that the loss of the fallen’s wings would be fatal.

  On the floor Amaros stirred as though trying to shift. Or fade away.

  “Attempting to turn into shadow?” Jack taunted, for he remembered that cowardly trick from the fountain in the square. “I think your new GIM nature ended that power.” Maybe it hadn’t. Jack wasn’t waiting to find out. He growled, reaching for the fallen’s other wing.

  But the hard press of cold metal and Mary’s arm wrapped about his neck had him freezing.

  “I needed you to fight him so that I could get close to you,” she said against his ear. “But I will not let you kill him.”

  He balked, not understanding, until he caught her gaze. She’d only be able to come near in defense of Amaros. All the more reason to destroy the fallen. She was not going to be enslaved a moment longer.

  Heart thundering and blood boiling, he glared down at Amaros. “Let me go, Mary. I will finish him.”

  “No. Not when it means seeing you become what he is.”

  The curse? He didn’t care. Not if it meant Mary was a slave to this bastard.

  The moment he moved, she tensed, pressing the metal more firmly under his chin. “Do not make me hurt you, Jack.”

  On the ground Amaros lay panting. His color had turned an ugly white, his skin sweating and blotchy as his blood ran blue-crimson over the stone floor. But Jack could see that spark of vitality still within him. He would heal. Unless Jack tore the other wing off and beheaded the bastard. The truth of it was a whisper in his head. He would obey it now. For only he had the strength to do it.

  The fallen’s eyes held this knowledge, and the realization that Jack had no hesitation. Amaros lifted his gaze to Mary. “Kill him.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  At his back Mary went stiff, drawing in a sharp breath. Jack knew she’d be compelled to act or suffer. And his heart squeezed tight.

  “Now,” Amaros rasped as his lids began to flutter closed.

  J
ack turned, capturing Mary in his arms, and her wide, pained eyes looked up at him. If Mary did not kill Jack she would die in agony for disobeying her master.

  “Do what you must,” he whispered, holding her steady as her heart clicked away at a frantic pace. He could see her struggling to disobey and the wash of pain that accompanied her defiance. “Do it, angel.”

  But she shook her head abruptly. “Kill me,” she managed in a gasp. The length of metal she’d been holding found its way into his hand, and he realized it was the electric prod that had stopped her heart before. “Hurry.”

  No! “I will not.”

  She touched his cheek, and her fingers curled as if she wanted to rake his flesh. Mary gritted her teeth. “Trust me, Jack. I will end this.”

  His throat tightened, the pain in his chest branching out along with a sick sense of dread. “I cannot.”

  Her body twitched, her mouth growing tight and pained. “This is the only way. Jack…” She shuddered, her hands coming up and around his neck as if to choke him. “Please.”

  “Mary, love, I can’t.”

  With a gasp of pain, she grabbed his wrist and forced the prod upward, determination making her stronger than he. His vision blurred. He could not hurt her, take her life. What if she didn’t come back? He couldn’t live.

  Beneath them Amaros was stirring, trying to rise, his mouth moving as if to speak. Another order from him and Mary would likely break. Sweat dotted her brow, and her body convulsed. “Together, Jack,” she whispered, “we are stronger than you know.”

  Trust. He had to believe in it. In her. Stifling a sob, he held her tight. Tight enough that his arms would never forget the feel of her body. “I love you,” he whispered. Come back to me. And then he pressed the button.

  Electricity surged through Mary’s body with razor-sharp pain. Her heart slammed to a halt, and she fell to the floor just as Jack roared. Free. She was finally free of Amaros’s bond and command. All her focus went to him. Being both GIM and fallen, he could see her clearly. His eyes widened as she rushed toward him. Finally she had him where she wanted him.

  “You may have owned my body,” she said. “But I own your spirit.”

  He heard every word and scrambled back on the floor.

  The creator giveth life, and the creator taketh away.

  She reached for him. Amaros’s soul was black and yellow, a muddy slime. Horrid and foul. And it was bound to her immediately. Blackness and terror surrounded her, Amaros’s soul tainting hers with each moment they were connected. And then she tugged the fallen into hell.

  The moment Jack saw Mary’s spirit merge with Amaros’s, he understood perfect terror. Her clean, bright soul was turning black, becoming diseased with the fallen’s evil. Above him Amaros’s soul thrashed, desperate to return to his body. And yet she stayed connected. For them.

  She mouthed the words “I love you” and then, as if a light had been doused, Amaros’s spirit simply vanished. And so did Mary’s.

  “Mary!”

  But she was gone, disappeared as though she’d never been. She’d taken Amaros’s soul, which meant Jack could destroy his body without fear of being cursed.

  With all his strength Jack lunged, his claws slicing through Amaros’s neck in one swipe. Jack ripped the fallen’s remaining wing off with one pull, just as the severed head toppled to the floor.

  Cursing, he leapt over Amaros’s body and ran toward her prone form. “Mary!”

  She’d return now. She had to. But her body was cold when Jack gathered her up. “Merrily. God. Come back.” Tears blurred his vision as he stroked a hand over her cheek. Her wide golden eyes were open and void of life. Viciously he ripped open her bodice and went for her key. But it was gone.

  “Shit!” He eased her down and scrambled back to Amaros’s body. He had to have taken Mary’s key.

  Already the fallen’s blood was disintegrating. Foul clumps of flesh stuck to Jack’s fingers and he tore about, trying to find the key. His vision blurred, his movements too frantic.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” Taking a breath, he forced himself to think, to go slowly. “He’d have worn it or risked losing it,” Jack muttered to himself. Jack reached for the stump of the fallen’s neck, and his pulse leapt. Dangling from a black cord lay the key to Mary’s heart.

  Too much time was wasted reaching her again, inserting the key, and turning it. Sweating and shaking, Jack sat back as the heart began to start, and her body closed. But nothing else happened.

  “Mary.” He gave her a gentle shake, but she remained silent and staring. Her eyes void of life. “Merrily, wake up. Wake up.”

  Still nothing.

  “Fuck.” Tearing at his flesh, Jack held his wrist over her parted lips. Blood poured into her mouth, but it merely ran over her lips and down her cheek. She was gone.

  He’d destroyed everyone who had hurt him. And it meant nothing. Not without her.

  Mary. She’d died for him.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  She was in Nowhere. Mary would rather call it Hell. Attached as she was to Amaros’s soul, she had known she would be dragged with him. It was not a physical place, but one of spirit. No fields of ice or lakes of fire. There was simply sensation and reflection. Every deed, experience, regret, every small secret part of her soul reflected back at her. She felt it all magnified to such a degree that her soul yearned to shatter, if only to end the overwhelming barrage of emotions.

  Hell indeed. But for Amaros it was agony.

  The instant they entered Nowhere, his terror and suffering rippled through her like the recoil of a gun. But while Hell wanted him, began to feed on his soul with greedy pulls, it seemed to know this was not Mary’s place. Their souls divided once more. And she was cast out of Nowhere.

  With dizzying speed she hurtled through the dark void and then slammed into her body with so much force that she lurched upward.

  Air rushed into her lungs on a great gasp. Her eyes focused. Jack Talent scowled down at her.

  And wasn’t that a lovely sight.

  His blazing green gaze traveled over her face, and then, with a sob, he hauled her close. “Piss and shit and buggering, bloody, fucking hell, Mary. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

  He buried his face in her hair as his thick arms tightened around her, and his ribald litany continued.

  She snuggled in closer, letting him curse, letting him pet and kiss her. Because Jack Talent, in all his imperfect glory, made her perfectly happy.

  Something stirred from without. Holly could feel it as much as she heard it. So could her fellow prisoners. The quick, clipped sound of the approaching footsteps sounded nothing like those of her jailers. And though every inch of her was battered, she hauled herself to her feet and pressed her face to the bars of her cell, straining to see what she could.

  Across the way a pair of dark, glittering eyes peered out from behind thick glass. Watching. Waiting.

  Holly looked away. At her side Thorne lay still and quiet. Too quiet. Were it not for the slow, even breaths he took every few seconds, she’d have believed he was dead.

  At the turn of the lock upon the outer doors, her icy fingers gripped the bars tighter.

  As if flowing on a wave, the sound of her fellow prisoners beginning to move filled the cellar. Locks clattered, a man’s murmur of reassurance following. A giddy sort of hope grew within Holly. And then he was there. Jack Talent. Holly reared back, her nerves destroyed.

  “Easy now,” he said softly. “You’re safe.” As if he knew exactly how frayed and open she felt. He glanced at Thorne and horror darkened his face. Uttering a ripe curse, he opened the door and hurried to him.

  Then Mary Chase appeared. On a sob Holly flew into her friend’s arms, and Mary held her fast.

  “It’s all over now, dearest.”

  Mary and Holly went to help with Thorne when a commotion broke out in the cell across the way. A violent darkness swarmed there, and the unsuspecting man who’d been opening the glass cell
leapt back with a yelp as a hundred spiders scurried past and out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Mary woke to find the space next to her empty. Cool, rumpled sheets told her that Jack had been gone for some time. Pushing her hair back from her face, she sat up, and the sound of crinkling paper alerted her to his note.

  In true Jack Talent fashion, it was brief, though the words were surprisingly formal.

  I apologize for my absence. I had to see about a matter of great importance. Would you do me the honor of meeting me at headquarters at four o’clock?

  Yours,

  J

  Mary let the note fall to the bed. What matter was so very important that he could not wake her?

  Her curiosity stirred higher when, having dressed and ventured downstairs, she encountered Jack’s day housekeeper, who brought her a fine breakfast and news that Mr. Talent had sent for a few of Mary’s gowns in order that she be properly attired. Indeed?

  She was still perturbed, hours later, when she arrived at headquarters wearing her best day dress—for Jack had only selected her most formal gowns—a sleek creation with a pale-bronze silk bodice and overskirt and a rippling underskirt of deep, luscious wine satin.

  Her trepidation only heightened when Inspector Lane met her instead of Jack. Where was the blasted man?

  Her instincts screamed that something was afoot.

  “Mistress Chase,” said Lane, “you look lovely.” He offered her his arm. “If you would come with me?” His blue-grey eyes twinkled. “And before you ask, I’m not at liberty to divulge any information. Master Talent’s orders.”

  “Since when do you take orders from Jack?” she asked, as they made their way up a narrow spiral staircase.

  Lane grinned, and the scars along his face wrinkled. “Since he asked me to return a well-earned favor.”

  Without another word he led her through Holly Evernight’s laboratory. The lofty space was abandoned and too quiet, and the click of her heels echoed against the marble.