Of Shadow and Stone

by Michelle Muto

“You look lovely, my dear,” Declan told Kate. “I do hope you found everything you wanted.”

  Kate smiled back at him. “Everything is perfect. Thank you.”

  Ian’s attention to Kate apparently wasn’t lost on Von Hiller, who sat across the table from them, suppressing his own smile while his eyes shifted between them.

  “I want you to enjoy your stay,” Declan said. “Both of you. You are very special here. To everyone.” He looked over Ian’s shoulder. Sara approached with Roland, but not arm in arm; Sara was walking decidedly ahead of him.

  Roland nodded toward Declan and Von Hiller, but made no attempt to acknowledge Kate or Ian. He took a seat, looking less than thrilled to be here.

  Declan made the introductions to Kate, although his eyes never left Roland.

  “Roland and I have already met,” Kate said.

  “Have you?” Declan looked to Roland for explanation. “Roland, when did you meet our guest?” Roland shifted in his seat, scowling.

  Here we go again, Ian thought.

  “Roland was telling me about the last sentinel,” Kate offered.

  Kate was definitely a hellcat, Ian thought. She wasted no time digging into this whole thing. Roland had clearly pissed her off earlier. Annoying people seemed to be his best attribute.

  “Is that so?” There was no mistaking Declan’s hostility as he continued to stare at Roland. “And what did Roland have to say?”

  Declan was a force to be reckoned with, but so was Kate. Ian watched with interest and appreciation for them both.

  Kate paused as though trying to recall, although Ian didn’t think she was having difficulty remembering anything at all. Nope. She knew exactly what she was doing. Poor Roland. Well, not really, but . . .

  Roland took a sip from his water glass, then answered with a tinge of nervousness in his voice. “Yes. He died. Most unpleasant. Shame, really. But no one can live forever.”

  Ian’s gaze shifted back to Kate, and it took everything he had not to smile. This was one hell of a dinner show.

  Kate pressed on. “You know, I don’t think we finished our conversation before you left my room. My fault entirely. I realize Shadow Wood is a dangerous place at times. But I guess I was in too much shock to ask why the last sentinel was eaten.”

  A loud clap of thunder echoed in the dining hall, and all the candles flickered as though a breeze had swept the room. Flames swayed from the fireplace and lapped at the mantel. Declan’s expression tightened, making the lines in his face seem hard and sharp.

  Oh, not good, Roland. Not good for you at all, buddy boy, Ian thought. So sad about your bad luck there, fella.

  Declan stood, tossing his napkin on the table. “You must excuse me. Roland and I have something of our own to discuss.” He turned to Von Hiller. “Please answer Kate’s question. Give her the truth. I suspect Roland has not properly and honestly informed her of the facts. We will not have scare tactics.”

  Roland, Roland, Roland, Ian thought. You should learn to keep your mouth shut.

  Roland’s face was as pale as the lilies on the table. He stood, although Ian didn’t know how he managed to move so fast. One second he’d been sitting at the table, wide-eyed, and the next he was standing, facing the door, ready to bolt.

  It didn’t matter how fast Roland was—he was outmatched. Declan had already moved past Roland to the door. Without ever touching him, Declan whirled Roland around and dragged him out like a petulant child in need of a scolding. Roland tried to resist, but despite his best efforts to head in a different direction or drag his feet, Declan forced him to follow.

  Beside Ian, Kate appeared alert, but not overly concerned.

  “First, allow me to apologize for Roland’s behavior,” Von Hiller said quietly. “He’s been a bit of a problem since he arrived here two months ago. In your world, he’s what you call a vampire. And Roland has one nasty demeanor. No wonder his family sent him to Declan for a little, shall we call it, attitude adjustment?”

  Vampires? They actually existed? Ian didn’t like the sound of this. He and Kate exchanged glances.

  Von Hiller took a steaming roll from the bread basket in front of him. “Roland comes from a prominent family in Romania, and he’s been an embarrassment to them. I won’t get into specifics, but if Declan hadn’t agreed to try and reform him, I daresay Roland would be in Mirun by now.”

  Sara gasped lightly. Ian couldn’t blame her. He’d heard of Mirun—well, the legend of Mirun—from Declan. Ian had used it in one of his novels. Back then, he had no idea it was real.

  Kate asked, “What is Mirun?”

  “It’s a prison,” Von Hiller responded. “You might say it’s the death row of our world.”

  “But why bother to reform him? It doesn’t appear Roland wants Declan’s help,” Ian said.

  Von Hiller broke off a piece of his roll and heavily buttered it. “Good question. Now that our host has left the room, I’ll tell you that contrary to what some believe, Declan has a good heart. He’s not exactly forgiving in some instances, and there’s serious hell to pay if he’s crossed, but otherwise, he’s quite an amicable fellow. He and Roland’s aunt, Duchess Nathara, are on good terms, so I suppose he relented for her sake. But Roland shouldn’t have told you about the sentinel’s passing, Kate. That isn’t his place. I can imagine how it must sound to you, but once you hear the full story, perhaps . . .” He shook his head. “Well, I’ll let both of you decide.”

  He set the roll down on his plate. “When the former sentinel passed away—from natural causes, I assure you; he had lived to be one hundred and sixteen—Declan came across a fellow who had the bloodline.” Von Hiller paused and looked at Kate and Ian. “Declan did tell you about that part, yes?”

  When they both nodded, he went on. “Well, I suppose this particular sentinel wasn’t ready. He was unable to handle what he saw and learned here, and, well, he went stark raving mad.” He shrugged as though he didn’t understand how such a thing could happen.

  “Sorry to say he never would have recovered. He was in agony—screaming constantly. Declan and I tried our best, but the mere sight of either of us sent him into fits. Even if we had returned him to your world to be treated with your mortal medicines, he was destined to live a tortured life. Declan dug deep into his mind. Seems the lad didn’t feel he had any quality of life left. He felt like a caged animal. All he wanted was to run, run, run. So Declan let him. I know that might sound savage, but staring out sanitarium windows in a locked room with daily medicines would have been no way to live. We’re all here to leave our mark on the world. Declan thought the best he could do for him was to give him the ability to die with purpose. When Declan was inside his mind, he even asked what the lad wanted. He responded that he preferred to die. Declan granted that wish.”

  Sara stared at the plate the waiter had placed before her. Von Hiller kept talking as the waiter served dinner to the rest of them.

  “This isn’t the most opportune moment to explain, but Declan said to tell you, and, well . . .” Von Hiller took a swallow of wine.

  Kate glanced at Ian, and despite the tension that filled the table, his heart sped up. He reached under the table and took Kate’s hand. Instead of withdrawing, she tightened her grip gently around his, as though giving him reassurance, and returned her attention to Von Hiller.

  “Declan had no choice. The young man couldn’t live knowing what he did. And believe me when I tell you that he truly was suffering.”

  Sara leaned over and patted Von Hiller’s hand, finishing the story for him. “Declan turned him into a creature that couldn’t possibly remember what had happened. But even that couldn’t save him. The change would have been temporary. Within a short time he would have died anyway,” she said.

  Ian understood what the two of them were trying to say. Roland had touched on it the other night at dinner. “So he became prey for the hunt?”

  “Yes,” Sara said. “The kill was quick. We’re very efficient.”

  “B
ut you ate him?” Kate asked in disbelief.

  “We’re wolves and, therefore, not wasteful. We don’t kill merely for sport. So, yes. I’m afraid so,” Sara said, cutting into her leg of lamb and taking a bite. “But this tastes much better.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ian

  Ian looked at the clear night sky with its thousands of twinkling stars like diamonds against black velvet. City lights had a way of washing out nature’s brilliance, which he found more spectacular and far more relaxing. The peacefulness of it reminded him of his childhood when he lay on the roof of his parents’ house out in the country, staring at the heavens, sometimes until the first rays of dawn.

  Throughout most of dinner, Kate had been composed, self-assured. At least, she had given him that impression. Seeing her now, perched in a chair across from him with her knees tucked under her chin, arms around her legs, Ian saw a different side of her. She was still trying to come to terms with everything she’d seen and heard, still trying to put on a front. She might not think she was handling it well, but in all honesty, she was doing far better than when he first learned the truth about Shadow Wood.

  Kate had let her hair down and had changed into jeans, a cashmere sweater, and a denim jacket that presumably had been in her closet. He had to give it to Declan or Von Hiller or whatever magical housemaids they had around here. They’d chosen the perfect outfit for her again. In the moonlight, Kate was every bit as beautiful as she had been in her evening gown. Maybe even more so.

  And vulnerable.

  As a writer, Ian had always considered it part of the job to read people: their expressions, choice of words, how short or long their gazes lingered, the distance they kept from others, how far their smiles reached toward their eyes. It made for well-rounded characters. Kate was conflicted. Overwhelmed. And she had this wall up around her and was going out of her way to make sure everyone knew it was there. Ian wanted to know why and what he could do to help.

  From her balcony, they could see the outer edge of the forest—the silhouettes of ominous-looking trees against the obsidian sky. The moon hung over the woods, nearly full, the pitted surface sharp and clear. Kate continued to stare into the forest, her expression pensive.

  “Come on,” he said, extending a hand. “I want to show you something.”

  She looked up at him, her face still tight with concern.

  “Trust me,” he said. She regarded his hand for a moment, then relented. Trust was hard for Kate, and he wondered who’d robbed her of it. Hollywood? This other guy she’d mentioned? He grabbed the throw blankets from the sofa on their way out of the room. He led her down the hall, stopping at the last door on the left. He opened it and guided her up the flight of stairs toward the roof.

  “It’s over the guest wing,” he told her.

  She scanned the roof. “There’s nothing here. It’s just a roof.”

  “No, it’s not,” Ian said. He followed Kate’s gaze around the rooftop again. She was searching for gargoyles along the ledges.

  “There aren’t any,” he said. “At least right here. Around the other side there are two. But that’s not why we’re up here. Do you see it?”

  She shook her head, and one of the curled strands of her hair brushed against her shoulder.

  Ian spread out one of the blankets on the roof and sat. “Have a seat. There’s room for two.”

  After a moment, Kate joined him. “I don’t see anything.”

  He took the second blanket and wrapped it around her. “Sure you do. You’re just not looking at it right.” He pointed to the night sky. “That.”

  She took in the sky and the stars as they blinked somewhere out in the universe, light years away. “Wow,” she whispered.

  Ian smiled. “Sometimes the most amazing things are right in front of us the whole time.”

  Kate gave him an odd look, as if his words had some other meaning. Maybe it had something to do with this place or the gargoyles, he couldn’t be sure. “To see the whole picture, you have to take away the distractions. Keep it simple.”

  “You’re right. It’s amazing. The sky is so clear.”

  “It’s just like our minds. We get so busy, our minds become too full of what ifs. Too full of everything. The night sky is a canvas with infinite possibilities, and the stars are inspiration.”

  She stared at the stars. “Do you do this often? Sit on rooftops?”

  “My parents fought a lot when I was growing up. They never divorced, but sometimes I wished they would. To escape, my brother and I would climb out our bedroom window and sit on the roof and watch the stars. Seems that no matter what’s going on in my life since then, the roof is the one place where all my problems seem so far below me and the answers above me. When I can’t write, or if I’m on a tighter deadline than I’m comfortable with—”

  “Ian, I don’t think it’ll work for me.”

  “Give it a chance, Kate. Relax. Stop trying to fix everything all at once. Let’s start with tonight. Pick a star.”

  “Ian—”

  “Pick a star. How about that one?” He pointed to a star winking at them brightly from above. “Focus on it. Now let’s reason things through. So, the first sentinel died . . .”

  Kate focused on the blinking star. “They ate him.”

  “Okay, so they did. But that’s not what is going to happen to you. It’s not going to happen to me, either. We’re stronger than that. Better informed. The other guy didn’t have the time to take all this in before he cracked.”

  “The gargoyles are killing people.”

  Ian selected another star. “Yep. But hopefully not at the moment. You’d know that. Sense it. So what are you sensing right now?”

  Kate turned her face toward his, and it took everything he had to keep his heart beating. What he wouldn’t give for more moments like this one. He wanted the time, the chance to know her better.

  “I don’t really know. It’s like they’re waiting.”

  “See? Nothing horrible is happening right now.”

  “You don’t sense them, do you?” she said. “I thought that you were here as some sort of backup. Maybe that’s still true, but it doesn’t change that this all comes down to what I decide. They want me, Ian. Me. Not you.”

  “We can do this, Kate. Together.”

  “No, we can’t. There can be only one sentinel at a time.”

  He wondered if they were talking about the same thing. Same stars, different horizons. They could do this, the two of them. Not just working through which one of them would become the next sentinel. Under the stars tonight, he thought they could do anything together.

  “True,” he said, “only one of us can be the sentinel. But neither of us has to do this alone.”

  How could he tell her that he’d accept being the sentinel if only she’d . . .

  She’d what? Stay? Be with him? Give him a chance?

  A chance at what? She was way out of his league.

  Just stick with helping her out of a tough situation, he told himself. Be there for her.

  Ian nodded. “Let’s try something else. What do you want? What do you want out of life?”

  Kate looked at him—studied him, actually. He said nothing, just looked back and waited for an answer.

  “Those are two separate answers.” Her eyes still hadn’t left his, and he wanted to kiss her. She must have sensed his intentions, and she looked back out at the stars. “I don’t know,” she said simply. “I mean, I want the gargoyles to stop killing people.”

  “And?”

  She stole another glance back at him.

  “Pick another star,” he said. Kate pointed to a large twinkling one.

  “Okay, putting the gargoyles aside for a minute, I didn’t hear you say what you wanted for you.”

  “I’m happy.”

  “I didn’t ask if you were happy. But happy is good. We’ll talk about that. What makes you happy, Kate? Who makes you happy?”

  “I make me happy,” she sna
pped. Then she took a deep breath. “My career. My career makes me happy.”

  Ian laughed a little. “So that’s it?”

  She turned to him and frowned. “I like what I do. Acting is a way of doing the impossible things you can’t do in real life. Every day I’m on a set is an adventure. What about you? What makes you happy?”

  “If we’re just talking careers, then I’d say I enjoy writing for all the same reasons you love acting.” He looked back at her and found her still staring at him. “And that’s what makes me happy in my professional life. But there’s more to life than work. What about outside of your career?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He shrugged. “Then we won’t. I get it. Something is missing from your life. Sorry to hear that.”

  “I didn’t say. . .” Her eyes dipped down to his lips, then back toward the skyline. “You’re right. I’m not happy when it comes to a personal life.”

  “Me, either,” he replied, catching her eyes again. “But I have no doubt we could be.” Looking into those hazel eyes made him forget to breathe.

  “Don’t go there.”

  “Go where? Because I’m going out on a limb and telling you that you’re special, Kate. Not just to Declan and these gargoyles. If the guy who broke your heart threw that away, then that’s his loss. Not that you’re the kind of person who depends on anyone else for happiness. That’s a great attitude, and I admire you for it. Someone hurt you, Kate. And I’m sorry. But neither he nor anyone else is worth the wall you’ve built.”

  She gazed back at the stars. “I have no idea what I’m doing here. No idea what I’m supposed to do.”

  He looked out at the night. “You can change worlds, Kate. Just give it a chance.”

  He thought he saw something break in her then, an opening.

  “The gargoyles,” she said breathlessly. “What am I supposed to do with them?”

  “What do you want to do with them?” Ian couldn’t help but stare at her, wanting to do anything but talk. But Kate needed this. “When Declan told me about the gargoyles and the sentinel, I thought it’d make a great story. But there’s a saying about being too close to a story, especially since I don’t know how it ends.”