The Shadow Walkers

by Shannon Reber

  I didn’t put him on speaker but turned on my camera, then took his phone and gave him access to the feed. “It’s muted so you can talk without making your voice come out of my pocket. Don’t freak out unless one of us says, Emma.”

  He nodded, taking the phone back with wary hands. “You two be careful,” he ordered, his eyebrows drawn together as he rubbed his hand over his mouth.

  “We will,” Spencer promised and got out of the car with me.

  I glanced at him, baffled by the wary look on his face. Could the neighborhood be more dangerous than I had believed? Was it possible it had been a mistake not to call Realm Enforcement to this location?

  But no. It wasn’t a mistake. We didn’t even know if the Shadow Walkers were there. It was possible they had simply brought the cup there for someone else to pick up and had gone about their soldier of fortune business.

  Again though, something didn’t feel right. I had no idea what it was but I had missed something. Something big.

  I faltered as we stepped inside the building that gave off the distinct odors of stale urine, vomit, and unwashed men. That niggling feeling in my gut got so strong, it was hard to breathe. I knew what I had missed.

  I pulled Spencer to a stop and took out my phone. My phone, laptop, and tablet were linked, so all I had to do was enter my password and I had access to anything on my laptop. The thing that had been bugging me was my mind trying to remind me that every time a failed password was entered into my laptop, I had set it up to take a picture. My laptop had been moved to make me think Dorothy had gotten into my stuff.

  My mouth set in a hard line when a man’s face appeared on my screen. A man. Not a shadow. I had been so very wrong.

  I sent that picture to Erkens and texted him to let him know the mistake I’d made. I also asked that he run the photo through my facial recognition software and see who had been in Dorothy’s house. I had shown him how to use that software, so hopefully, he’d be okay with it.

  Spencer watched over my shoulder as I worked, his mouth going hard. He looked like a younger version of Erkens right then, something that made me want to laugh. Sort of.

  I brought my finger to my lips, not wanting to draw attention to us being there. We started walking again, following the GPS dot to the far corner of the building.

  The smell was so bad, it made me want to throw up. Since that would only add to the noxiousness all around us, I fought that urge back. It was not a place I wanted to hang out in at all.

  I stepped forward, eager to get away as fast as possible. The light was dim because of the boarded-up windows, although some light did still work its way through. What I saw looked like the perfect setting for a serial killer’s lair.

  Plastic sheets covered the floors and walls of the hallway, with tables, boxes, and a lot of cobwebs. The doors were mostly off their hinges other than one. At the end of the creepy hallway was one door that was closed.

  The smartest part of me told me to turn and run away, to ask Erkens to call for backup. The part of me that was stupid and all too curious wanted to see what was behind the door.

  Spencer shot me an appalled look, clearly reading the fact I was getting ready to walk through that door. He grimaced, his eyes scanning the area. Since his eyes were glowing, I knew he was using that power to search out danger.

  I still didn’t understand everything Spencer could do. I wasn’t sure he understood it either. Not all of it. He was a demigod. Who knew what kind of power he truly possessed.

  I took a step forward until he grabbed my arm. I glowered over my shoulder at him . . . only to find it wasn’t Spencer holding me back. The hand felt human but it wasn’t. It was a shadow.

  If that thing had substance enough to grab me, it could be hurt. I slammed my elbow into the shadow’s midsection, startled when it passed through the thing. Since my feet had been planted, it was easy enough to keep from falling, yet I did still whirl in an awkward way.

  It had released me, so I assumed that meant it could choose when it was solid and when it was shadow. Dorothy had heard the thing sneeze, though, so it must have normal human functions. I took the gun out of my bag and took the safety off in one quick movement.

  In training, we had been taught not to pull a gun unless we were willing to use it. I was willing but still wasn’t sure if it should be fired. If that thing was able to turn from solid enough to grab my arm, to a simple shadow, would a bullet even work on it?

  The shadow faded into nothingness like it had never been there at all. And fear rose inside me. How could I fight an enemy that I couldn’t see?

  What if the Shadow Walkers had been working with the man who’d been messing with my stuff? What if even Slip was in on it?

  “I’m not your enemy,” a voice said from a shadowy area to my left.

  Spencer turned his glowing eyes toward the voice. “Who are you?” he asked like it was any ordinary conversation with any ordinary person.

  “I am Loam of the shadow realm. And you are Spencer, son of Hades.”

  Spencer didn’t respond to that, just motioned to me. “This is Madison,” he informed before he went on, his eyes still glowing. “What are you doing here?” he asked, the glow of his eyes telling me he still considered the shadow a threat.

  “They took the Cup of Jamshid. Argil was to come back to the house to protect Dorothy and followed the thieves.”

  I furrowed my brows. “Protect Dorothy? She was beat up by those two guys and is being taken to the hospital right now. She’s not conscious,” I said through my teeth, furious that the thing hadn’t helped her more.

  There was silence for a moment before the voice came again. “We were only hired to keep her alive. The cup has kept her alive, so there was no need for us to interfere.”

  And puzzle pieces clicked into place. “Leopold Otto got a bad feeling off Dorothy’s collection. He hired you, thinking he was protecting her from them.”

  The shadow appeared in front of me again. “The wording of our contract has to be very precise and Leopold Otto believed the items Dorothy has collected were the danger. Argil didn’t believe we should stop the thieves but when they took the cup, we had to interfere. Without that cup, Dorothy will wither.”

  I took in a shaky breath and lowered the gun. “What’s in the room?” I asked, motioning down the hall to the door he’d stopped me from walking to.

  “The woman is intelligent. She realized she was being followed and had one of the men set an explosive in that room.”

  “So there’s three of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know who any of them are?”

  Loam stood still for a few seconds. “I do not but the woman . . . she frightens me.”

  I sighed and shrugged a little ready to get out of that smelly hallway. “I guess this means they found the locator on the cup?”

  The shadow nodded. “Removing the locator was the first thing the woman did.”

  I scowled at Loam. “Why didn’t you stop them?” I demanded, annoyed by how crappy a job he was doing both in protecting Dorothy and in getting the cup back to her.

  The shadow drew itself up, becoming more solid as he did. “My contract does not require me to give up my life, which is what would have happened if I had gone in alone. I saw you at Dorothy’s home, saw the foolish way you rushed in, and I also saw the result. I am the only reason that cretin didn’t club you over the head with one of the sculptures in that museum. So yes, you are very welcome,” he snapped and vanished into thin air.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Lars Nemen was angry. He couldn’t believe he was stuck with Stelen. He’d thought he was done with the man after that job but there had apparently been other plans he was only just learning about.

  He glowered at the other man, his anger rising. Lars had worked hard in that last heist, made a plan that could have gotten them away scot free but Stelen had botched his plan. It was his fault that everything had gone so wrong.

  He looked at the box
holding the Cup of Jamshid and scowled even more deeply. One cup. No matter what the thing was worth, everything they had been forced to endure should have gotten them more than that one old cup.

  He had spotted several items that, if he found the right buyer, could have set him up for life. But the plan needed to be followed.

  Stelen paced the same stretch of floor, repeatedly looking at his watch. They had only been waiting for her for a few minutes but the stupid punk hadn’t held still the entire time. If it wasn’t for his clumsiness in knocking over one of the shelves in the attic a few days before, they wouldn’t have had to deal with the whole paranormal investigator issue.

  “Stelen, stand still, you flapdrol,” he growled, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his knife.

  Stelen didn’t stop pacing but began doing a very poor imitation of his accent. “Why should I, mein Herr? Are you going to hurt me if I don’t, mein Herr?” he spat, his eyes fixed on his watch again.

  “I’m from the Netherlands, not Germany, you idiot.”

  “Same thing,” Stelen said with a sneer.

  Lars pulled his knife out and took a menacing step closer to the smaller man. “No. It is not the same thing,” he barked, his mind and body going cold as he advanced on Stelen.

  Lars hated the man for his stupidity but also for the fact he had been told Stelen planned to kill him to take his share of the profits. It was intolerable. He would not allow it to happen.

  Stelen’s face tightened as he saw Lars advancing on him. He pulled a small gun he had concealed in a holster on his belt and raised it. “You bring a knife to a gunfight?” he jeered, stepping closer so his small-caliber handgun would do the trick.

  Lars stepped to the side and swiped his knife expertly, severing the tendons in Stelen’s wrist. The gun fell to the ground but Stelen didn’t. He roared with rage and dove at Lars, both of them toppling to the ground.

  It had been a stupid move but Lars knew Stelen was a stupid man. He sank his knife deep into the man’s gut and tore it to the side, making a mess of blood and entrails cascade over him.

  He smiled as he threw Stelen to the side, shaking the nastiness off his shirt as he rose. “You thought you could best me? This is what you get when you doublecross Lars Nemen.” And he kicked Stelen’s dying form.

  The clip of footsteps on the wood floors came through the air and the smell of strawberries warred with the metallic scents of blood and death. “Oh, baby. You’re a mess,” a woman’s voice said.

  He turned, smiling as he saw her. The first time he saw her, he’d thought she was plain and boring. The more he’d gotten to know her, the more he had wanted her. She had let him do things that no other woman had allowed him to do before and she had begged him for more.

  He took off his bloody shirt and used the back of it to wipe away the majority of the rest of the mess on him. He tossed the disgusting shirt negligently over Stelen’s now gray face and gave her a little bow. “Don’t you like me this way, Adrian?” he asked, taking a step closer to her.

  Adrian Ezra gave him a wide smile as she lifted the small handgun Stelen had dropped and fired off a shot into his knee.

  Lars gaped at her as he fell to the ground, the blinding pain of it at war with the pain of the fact it was her who had done it. He had thought they would spend the rest of eternity together. That was what she had told him. She had said that Stelen planned to kill him for his share. He suddenly saw how she had played him and his anger rose up again.

  Adrian looked away from him, her eyes fixed on the box. “Finally,” she whispered, kneeling down in front of it.

  With reverent hands, she pulled the Cup of Jamshid out and examined it closely. She had made sure it was the right item when she’d met them in Nicetown but she hadn’t handled it like she did then, as though it was the most precious artifact.

  Lars tried to move. He wanted to take the cup from her, wrap his hands around her throat, and strangle the life from her body. Such a small gun shouldn’t have been able to do much damage but her aim had been perfect. His knee was shattered and the white-hot pain tore at him.

  “Why?” Lars gasped, hating himself for asking such a pathetic, love-sick kind of question.

  Adrian stroked her fingers down the patterns in the cup, her eyes fixed worshipfully on it. “I made a deal with a wraith when I was fifteen to give them my brother but it didn’t work out. They think I owe them now. This cup is my only chance of surviving,” she stated in such a matter-of-fact tone, it was like she felt nothing one way or the other.

  Lars gasped in a shaky breath, bile rising in his throat as he watched her. “Why . . . did you shoot me?” he panted, the burning, crippling pain that shot up his leg making him feel weak as a kitten Adrian was about to smash.

  She let out a slight laugh, glancing at him as she put the cup back in the box and stood up. “Did you honestly think I wanted to spend the rest of eternity with someone like you?” She threw her head back and let out a loud laugh. “You served your purpose. I don’t need you anymore,” and she lifted the box, moving toward the entrance of the building.

  Lars gritted his teeth, fighting through the pain to move even the tiniest bit. It was a monumental effort but slowly, he managed to get his hand into his pocket and pull out his phone.

  It slipped from his fingers, falling into the growing pool of blood that surrounded him. He groaned and with a burst of adrenaline, managed to pick up the phone again. Black spots floated in front of his eyes as he held the thing but he had to call the cops.

  If he could get them there, Adrian would be arrested and no matter how much pain he endured, he would feel vindicated. His fingers slipped on the screen, coated with a mix of his and Stelen’s blood. It had begun to get sticky, somehow making it even more difficult to dial those three numbers.

  His hand jerked in shock as the door opened. There had to be something else he could do, anything to make sure she didn’t get away with her doublecross.

  His heart skittered in his chest when he saw her. He didn’t understand. But as she grew closer, understanding slammed into him.

  Adrian held a pair of handcuffs, her lip bleeding as she hooked them around her wrists. She walked over to him and took the phone from his hand. She smiled down at him as she dialed 9-1-1 and raised the gun.

  “No, stop it! Please, please stop!” she screamed, tearing her shirt as she leaned down to rake her nails over his cheek. “Please, don’t hurt me anymore!” she acted out, smirking at him as she pulled the trigger.

  TWENTY-TWO

  By the time Spencer and I got back to my car, Erkens looked ready to explode. He practically threw the laptop at me, barking orders before we had even closed the doors.

  “You’re going to need to work that confounded machine. I don’t understand your program,” he told me, going on before I could answer. “According to Simms, the Shadow Walkers are in our world on a probationary basis. The fact they were hired to protect Dorothy and interpreted their contract to say they could only protect her from the objects in her collection will be a strike against them. They might be sent back to the shadow realm for this.”

  Spencer pulled out onto the road, listening intently as Erkens continued on.

  I tuned him out, my mind focused on my facial recognition software. The face I looked for showed up after a few minutes as a man named Lars Nemen.

  He had been born in the Netherlands but migrated to America with his mother after his father was imprisoned. Lars became an American citizen at the age of twenty. Since that time, he had been implicated in several crimes, though had never been incarcerated.

  Most of the things he’d been brought in for questioning about had to do with theft. From what I could see, he was a chip off the old block. It looked like he was a far better thief than his father was, though.

  Okay. I knew who the guy was. All I had to do was find him.

  I changed the parameters of my search to show me public cameras in Philadelphia. If his face showed up on a traffic o
r weather camera in the city, I’d have him. Next, I went to the police database, searching for his name in connection with any crimes in the area.

  “Guys,” I said, my voice a little shaky as I read. “There’s a break-in listed at a house for sale in Kensington. Two dead bodies were found when a woman called in to report her abduction.”

  “Your point?” Erkens demanded.

  “One of the dead bodies is Lars Nemen, the guy who tried to get into my laptop the other night. And the woman is Adrian Ezra.”

  Spencer leaned his head back against the seat and groaned. “Of course it’s her,” he said in a weary way, glancing back at me with his brows raised. “So probably, she masterminded the theft of that cup and killed the two guys.”

  I read on, making a face as the photos that had been taken by the body-cam of one of the officers showed up on the screen. “She’s claiming she killed Lars Nemen in self-defense because she’d just seen him kill the other guy,” I reported, appalled by the gore in the photos. “She kneecapped him, then shot him in the eye.”

  “Yeah, one of the most painful shots that she could inflict on him,” Spencer said, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. “We need to talk to the cops. Tell them who and what she is.” And he turned, screeching onto a side-street without even really looking at where he was going.

  I opened my mouth to tell him to be careful with my car when the change in light revealed a shadow in the seat next to me. I should have guessed that Loam would follow us, so I was able to swallow back my shriek.

  The thing was, the shadow was a different shape than Loam had been. That shadow was slimmer and there was something more corporeal about him than there had been about Loam. Could that be Argil?

  The fact he was riding around with us without letting us know he was there was creepy. Something just felt wrong about him being there.

  “Erkens, have you seen Emma?” I asked in a clear tone, reaching my hand into my bag for one of Erkens’ silver pens.