Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Adkins, Heather Marie

  I turn away from him, my hand slipping from his chest, but he catches it, holding tight another moment.

  Lady Tirelli’s greeting is like honey. “I’ve waited twenty years to meet you, little sparrow. The Glass Fox was clever to hide you with Patrick Ryan.” She scoffs. “He was the most unlikely father.”

  She greets me like a mother would greet her daughter, taking my shoulders in her hands, gazing at me with lustrous hazel eyes. She doesn’t seem to notice that her thumb slides through the blood covering my shoulder.

  She tucks my hair behind my ears, cooing at me, “Beautiful girl, come with me.”

  Her grip is firm around my free hand. She is made of steel beneath her soft exterior. Holding onto me, she turns, expecting me to follow her, but Cain is still holding my other hand, and his fingers tighten, tugging me to a stop.

  For the very first time … he doesn’t let me go.

  Surprise shoots through me as I twist back. He has always allowed me to make my own choices. “Cain?”

  He shakes his head, a slow, dangerous side to side motion, his lips pressed together in determination, his piercing eyes filled with fire. “I won’t let you die, Archer.”

  20

  Cain’s focus shifts to Lady Tirelli. Rage floods his face, a glow building around him a second before he drops my hand and charges at her.

  She whirls, gasps, and quickly digs her heels in, letting me go so she can get her fists up.

  Cain drops his shoulder. Instead of hitting her, he picks her off her feet, his big arms clamping around her thighs, flipping and throwing her. She has nowhere to go but down, landing on her shoulder with a crunch. She rolls through it, recovering quickly, jumping back to her feet several paces away.

  Cain flips a dagger into each hand, slashing at her face as she ducks and steps rapidly to avoid the cuts. She rallies and fights back, her fists crashing into him, knocking the daggers wide without touching them. One of them narrowly misses my face, but I know better than to touch it.

  Oomph. Alexei is a blur as he barrels into me, picks me up, and carries me out of harm’s way. His commanding voice orders me, “Stay out of this fight.”

  Cain hits back, but so does Lady Tirelli. Their fists fly, magic streaming around them, the impact between them like iron gavels. Each time he connects with the fist on which he wears his assassin’s ring, she winces, reacting defensively.

  I struggle against Alexei’s hold, my eyes narrowing as I realize that Cain’s fists don’t cause Lady Tirelli pain, but his magic does. This is more than a fist-fight. Even so, she is incredibly strong.

  “I have to help!”

  Alexei growls in my ear, “You have to stay.”

  As soon as the fight started, the remaining four Novices took off, disappearing through the door, but they are the least of my worries.

  On the other side of the room, the Guardian and Juliet steer clear of the fight. The Guardian jolts every time Cain hits Lady Tirelli. I remember what Cain told me about assassinations: they must be sanctioned.

  I stare at her, willing her to shout out that she sanctions Lady Tirelli’s death—can’t she do that?—but she remains silent.

  I stop struggling against Alexei and demand, “Why doesn’t the Guardian sanction the kill? She sanctioned the deaths of the Novices.”

  Alexei says, “The Novices are assassins who broke the first rule. When an assassin breaks the Code, the Guardian can step in. But Lady Tirelli is not an assassin. Her death can only be sanctioned if her name is written in Cain’s ledger.”

  “There’s no time to do that…” I twist, struggling harder. “What happens if Cain kills her without sanction?”

  “He will be excommunicated. That means he is no longer protected from other assassins. We are a vicious people. Those who leave do not last long. Cain will be dead within a week.”

  A cry builds in my chest. “I have to stop him. I can’t let him do this.”

  A crack makes my stomach turn. Cain’s wrist dangles. It’s the hand on which he wears the ring. Lady Tirelli smiles when he drops his arm to protect his wounded limb. It gives her the opening she must have been waiting for. Her next hit is hard enough to twist his body sideways, crashing him to the floor.

  “Let me go!” I draw on all my strength to push out of Alexei’s arms, then catch his look of surprise that I succeed, before I race across the distance.

  Lady Tirelli picks Cain up by his collar, pulling his torso off the floor. The way his head rocks back tells me he is unconscious.

  She raises her fist, preparing to end him, and there is not a damn thing any of the assassins in the room can do to stop her. The Guardian screams and Juliet’s hand flies over her mouth.

  I crash into Lady Tirelli, both arms outstretched, pushing her backward. She lets go of Cain and tumbles across the floor, trying to get back to her feet. I hook my leg under Cain’s shoulders before his head hits the ground, sliding my knees under him as fast as I can. His beautiful head settles into my lap. Thank God, he’s breathing.

  I place him gently onto the floor and rise to stand between him and Lady Tirelli, my arms splayed. My voice is guttural. “Touch Cain again and I will crush you. The assassins aren’t allowed to kill you, but I am.”

  I sense Alexei hurry up behind me to pull Cain clear, dragging him across the floor to the Guardian. As soon as Alexei looks like he’s going to run back to help me, she grabs him with a firm shake of her head. “No.”

  Alexei curses. Twists back to me. Curses again. But he stays put.

  None of the assassins can act against Lady Tirelli, no matter what she does. Damn their rules.

  But rules never applied to me. I assess my surroundings, the weapons that might be available to me, while I draw on the memory of every dirty fight I ever fought, every dirty trick I used against an opponent. Steak knives, forks, shattered pieces of table wood. I’m not afraid of splinters in my fingers.

  Lady Tirelli recovers, drawing herself upright. “You can try, little sparrow.”

  I let her confidence wash over me. The first chance I get, I’m ripping that face mask off her. I feint left, duck under her fist, and land a solid hit to her stomach, followed by a quick kick to the back of her legs. She cries out, the first sign of pain all evening, as her legs give way. She rights herself before she loses her balance, but the way she stumbles tells me her legs are her weak point. Good. I’ll use them against her.

  I snatch up the steak knife I was aiming for and hurl it straight toward her neck. She dodges it at the last minute and it slices past her shoulder instead.

  She strides toward me, swinging quick blows, but I glide around her, avoiding her fists, fluid like Cain taught me. Another quick kick against her legs sends her crashing into the nearest table.

  Cain told me that the Keres were the perfect killers—and the perfect protectors. I snatch up a dropped fork, run toward Lady Tirelli, leap off the table she bumped into, and slam the fork into the shoulder I nicked. She screams, this time with rage. The angrier she gets, the more mistakes she will make. I spin out of her reach, but not before I snatch up the tablecloth, rapidly twisting it in my hands as she rages after me, the fork still protruding from her body.

  She’s smart. This way she won’t bleed out.

  I allow her to connect once to my stomach, because she will expect me to bend, which I do, but only because it’s the perfect position to break her kneecaps with my fists.

  She screams and drops, flailing as I land on her stomach. When she lashes out, I catch her wrist and wrap the cloth around it, catching her next punch and tying that hand tight too, jumping to my feet and yanking her arms above her head. My foot meets her face. Shame I’m not wearing heels.

  She spits blood and pulls against the makeshift rope, rolling and wrapping herself in it. I let it go, picking up a piece of wood instead, following her as she jumps to her feet. I don’t give her time to recover before I ram it into her stomach.

  Wobbling on her feet, she tries to pull it out. “Y
ou fight like a demon!”

  I kick her stomach, hands and all, to drive the stake deeper.

  Shock floods her face. I follow her expression with my fist, smashing it off her face.

  Her blood sprays across me.

  She stumbles backward, her chest heaving, trying to disentangle herself from the cloth and remove the shard at the same time. “Your kind were never this strong.”

  Twice now she has implied that she knows what I am. But if she means she fought a Keres … that means there could be others. There must be others.

  Please let me not be alone.

  I grind my teeth. “They didn’t grow up with Patrick Ryan.”

  The cloth drops free from her wrists, but she doesn’t let it go, whipping it in her fists. I avoid it as I head in for the kill.

  As my body goes through the motions, a dull scream grows at the back of my mind. How many more times will I have to be a monster? How many more people will I have to kill with my bare hands in order to survive?

  I just need one good hold of her head and I will snap her neck as easily as she snapped Brenna’s. I dodge her attempt to capture me with the cloth, punch her stomach, follow her body as she bends, latch onto the side of her head, raise my other hand, ready to twist…

  She hisses, “Why haven’t you opened your wings?”

  I falter. It’s only for a second. But it’s enough.

  She shoves my left hand away from her head, wraps the cloth around it, and whips the rope around my neck. She twists at the same time, kicking the side of my knee, forcing me to the side so she can leverage herself into position behind me.

  She kicks the back of my other knee to force me down, the drop pulling the cloth tighter around my neck, so hard that my vision blurs.

  Sudden pain rakes across my shoulders. A sharp object digs into me. The fork? Is she seriously digging for my wings?

  Lady Tirelli’s voice is urgent, demanding. “Open your wings and you will be able to kill me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  More than anything. I struggle against the rope and her efforts to find my wings, fighting her iron grip on me.

  I opt for the truth, wanting to test her reaction. Also to distract her while I position myself to break free. “I can’t.”

  She freezes. “What?”

  “I can’t open them. They’re locked.”

  “Can’t?” She shoves away from me so suddenly that I take a tumble.

  She charges at me as she screams, “Then you’re useless to me!”

  I hurry to find my feet and defend myself as she hits out, her arms swinging while I duck each impact, unraveling myself from the cloth at the same time.

  When her next hit swings wide, she pulls up short to scream at me, planting her feet. “Twenty years wasted! You’re useless! Worthless!”

  A week ago, her words would have hit me harder than any fist. But the last few days with Cain have given me a different perspective about myself.

  I say, “I am not worthless.”

  While she paces, a silver glow builds around her body like the glow I saw around Cain. She must be wearing an assassin’s ring that makes her stronger—or helps her heal. That’s the only explanation for why she’s still standing despite her wounds. That could also explain why Cain’s magic had an impact on her—the two magics were colliding. If she has access to assassin’s magic, it would certainly explain why her reputation is so formidable.

  She snarls, “Well … if I can’t get what I want, then neither can you.”

  She suddenly stops and throws her hand out, palm up, tugging at the air.

  I stare at her, confused, until I follow the direction of her hand.

  She’s pointing at Cain.

  In the distance, a single flame rises up from his body, a glowing orb, brighter than the brightest diamond. It is just like the shifters’, but pure and strong.

  His soul.

  Lady Tirelli’s fingers flex and Cain’s soul-flame floats toward her.

  A scream builds in my chest. “How did you do that?”

  She smiles, her voice a low murmur. “I have ways. I will crush his soul and you can’t stop me unless you release your wings.”

  “No!” I leap forward, not at her, but to intercept the flame, catching the orb in my hand, holding tight. It beats against my fingers, pulling toward her, but I refuse to let it go.

  Lady Tirelli gasps, frowns, her fingers trembling, concentration falling over her features, trying harder to pull Cain’s soul toward her, but I don’t budge.

  To my surprise, she gives up quickly, dropping her arm with a laugh. She leans into me, quietly snarling, “Very well. You win. But what’s really going to kill you is that you can’t save him unless you release your wings.”

  She slinks toward the door, turning only to whisper, “He will die now.”

  Across the room, the Guardian rises from her position beside Cain to stop Alexei before he chases after Lady Tirelli. “Let her go!”

  Juliet sags with relief as our enemy disappears into the shadows. The disgusting scent of roses recedes and her absence lifts a weight from me. But panic replaces it. The others don’t realize that Cain is dying.

  Cain’s soul is like a careful tapestry, deep darkness interwoven with bright strands of compassion. He is capable of incredible violence and astonishing kindness. He pulled me out of darkness and showed me another way—he gave me a glimpse of a life with someone who … loves me.

  The flame inside my fist is growing cold.

  A sob rises to my throat. My feet move before I know it.

  The Guardian approaches me. “Archer? Are you okay?”

  I’m certain they didn’t hear my conversation with Lady Tirelli about wings, but right now that’s the least of my concerns.

  “Don’t touch me!” My voice breaks. “Cain is dying.”

  “How do you know—?” She spins back to Cain, dropping to his side to check his pulse, her eyes shooting wide.

  Her hand flies over her mouth, smothering a cry. “He’s already gone.”

  Juliet drops to her knees. Alexei freezes. But Cain isn’t gone. Not yet.

  I rage at them. “Get his armor off. Then get away from him.”

  When they stare at me in shock, I shout, “I can save him! Do it!”

  If I can hold on to his soul then … dammit … I can give it back.

  Alexei hurries to lever Cain onto his side while the Guardian undoes his armor, assisting each other to pull it over his head.

  I shout, “Shirt, too!”

  I don’t have time to go carefully. The first two steps are easy, the next not so much. By the time I kneel beside him, they’ve ripped off his shirt and hurriedly stepped back, but now I’m pushing against a force that bashes against me, stealing the breath from my lungs. A fire burns in my back, a power that threatens to tear me apart from the inside.

  My wings. I sense them writhing, trying to form, like pieces of glass cutting me on the inside.

  They can’t … I can’t…

  I hunch my shoulders, place my free hand over the hand in which I hold Cain’s soul, and push with all my might, one slow inch at a time, one painful increment at a time toward his bare chest. The harder I push, the worse the pain grows.

  I scream, jolting when agony spears through my stomach, shooting up into my chest, into my heart. It thuds. Slower. As if my life is being consumed by the force inside me with every second that I try to do the impossible.

  For the first time in my life, I am not cold.

  Heat rises from my arms and the backs of my hands, sweat drips from my forehead and pools at the base of my neck, watery rivers of blood drip from my shoulder and chest where the bullet hit me.

  Tears wash down my cheeks. I can’t do it … I’m still too far away…

  Cain’s soul sputters inside my fist, nearly cold and gone, and terror fills me. My heartbeats are dying but I have to keep going. My shaking hands nearly touch Cain’s chest. His soul is so close to his body.


  Nearly … almost…

  As I force my hands the final inch, I sense my shoulder blades rip through my skin. My chest cavity opens, my ribs split apart and blood pools through my dress. I must be screaming but I’m not sure.

  The Guardian is shouting but I can’t hear what she says. Juliet is screaming. Alexei is crouched only two paces away, holding his head in his hands, paler than I ever expected to see him.

  But there.

  There.

  I press my hand to Cain’s chest, his soul’s fragile flame warming my palm for a moment before it sinks into him, the glow spreading from my hand. It travels in every direction, up to his shoulders, his neck, his face, down to his lungs, his stomach, and beyond, where his armor conceals it.

  He inhales, his chest rising and falling again. His eyes flash open, meeting mine.

  I try to speak. I try to tell him that he is everything to me. But I have no air, nothing left, no more time. The room tips and my body sinks to his chest, my face turned to his.

  My mind breaks.

  21

  “Don’t move.”

  Alexei’s voice reaches me through the fog inside my head. My thoughts swim, a mire of incoherent thoughts, the pain in my body beyond me. Too much to bear. The surface I’m resting on stops moving. Cain’s broad chest. My head and shoulders rest against it, my hand pressed to his heart, my knees curled up beneath me pressed against his side. I am curled over him. I wish I could open my eyes but nothing responds to my wishes.

  Cain’s heartbeat thunders in my ears, and his distressed roar vibrates through my head. “Archer! No!”

  I sense the agitated movement of his arms, his shoulders shifting, his torso rising beneath me. My pain shifts with him, the angles changing with every move he makes.

  Alexei shouts, “Cain! Don’t move or you’ll break her.”

  “Break her? She’s already broken.” Cain’s emotions crack. “Please tell me she’s breathing.”

  Alexei’s voice is really close, as if he’s restraining Cain. He’s also choosing his words. “She’s … alive. Juliet has gone to get Sarah and the medical team. You need to lie still until they tell us what to do.”