The Book Of Shade (Shadeborn 1)

by Finn, K. C.

  “I want a word with you,” he griped, cutting in again before she could even reply. “Whatever weird crap you’re mixed up in, leave my name out of it in future, right?”

  Lily stood up and Jazzy followed, both giving him furious looks.

  “Are you out of your tree?” Jazzy accused. “Why would Lily mention you anywhere? You’re not anything to do with each other!”

  “That’s what I thought until this tribe of freaky hippies appeared at my door,” Michael spat back, “asking me all sorts of questions about that theatre… and you.”

  Lily’s eyes widened. “What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing,” Michael answered with a shrug. “I didn’t know what the hell they were talking about most of the time.”

  Lily scanned the bright summer park carefully for any signs of hooded figures, then looked back to Michael with a relieved sigh.

  “Good,” she said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

  He shrugged her off sharply, that same worried look in his eyes that she had seen on her mother’s face.

  “There is something going on then, isn’t there?” Michael said warily. “You’re into something nasty with that bunch of freaks. I knew it.” He looked her up and down with judging eyes. “I’m glad I got out while I could.”

  Lily felt as though he’d stabbed her in the gut. “Those freaks are good, honest people,” she insisted angrily, “and I dumped you.”

  Heat grew in Lily’s palms as her anger rose. The pendant at her neck tingled like it was trying to take in her excess energy, but when she looked down at it, she saw it was glowing fiercely, and trembling on her chest where it was full to the brim with colours and shapes. Michael stared at it too, stepping away slowly in ever-growing fear. The sound of thundering footsteps distracted Lily from the pendant full of loose energy, and she glanced around again as her own name caught her ears.

  “Lily!” Novel cried.

  He was running across the park in an all-black suit, his face a picture of worry and panic. He looked pale in the sunlight and, as Lily watched his feet trample through the bright green grass, the déjà vu sensation hit her once more, gripping her chest like a hand made of ice. Panic spread with burning through her blood, sending shivers both hot and cold into every fearful muscle as her body became consumed with anxiety. You shouldn’t be here, Novel. Not now, not in the sunlight.

  “As if on bloody cue,” Michael griped as Novel arrived, panting, beside him. “I ought to have this out with you, mate. If you’d never given her that damned job at the theatre-”

  “Lily I have to talk to you,” Novel said, totally ignoring Michael’s words. “I found something out. It’s not good. We have to get back to the theatre.”

  “Are you even listening to me?” Michael shouted.

  “Shut up!” Lily yelled at him. “This doesn’t concern you, get out of our way!”

  Michael shuffled back again as Novel grabbed Lily by the hand, horrified at the sight of the kindred flame as it engulfed their grip. He stammered and stared at them both like they had three heads each, then a cruel twist appeared in his lips.

  “I hope they get you,” Michael said bitterly, “whatever you are.”

  A rush of something that sounded like a bullet swam through the air, though there was no sound of a gunshot to indicate where it had come from. Lily was about to retort something nasty at Michael when she felt Novel’s hand fall out of hers. He crumpled to the floor in front of them all, landing with a hideous thud as Lily spotted a purple dart sticking out of his shoulder. Dropping to her knees, she pulled the dart out immediately and turned him over, but his eyes were already rolling in their sockets as they fluttered closed.

  “Look what you’ve done, distracting us!” she accused, her fierce gaze trained on Michael.

  The young man’s face turned pale as he looked at Novel’s suddenly limp form and he turned swiftly on his heel and ran.

  “Coward!” Lily shouted after him, turning back to Novel.

  Tears streamed down her face in shock as Lily grabbed the illusionist’s shoulders and shook them just as she had in her vision. He lay unmoving, and she cried out ‘No’ more times than she could count. If it had been a crippling fear even as possibility in her future, now Lily felt the full force of disaster crushing her heart. Every sinew of strength in her body was in the way she held and shook Novel, and in every heave her chest gave as desperate tears began to fall.

  “Lily,” Jazzy said quietly.

  “Not now,” she sobbed, putting her head down on Novel’s chest.

  As she did, however, she realised that deep within his torso, there was a still faint beating of his heart. His lungs didn’t sound like they could expand fully, but he was breathing as though he was only sleeping. Lily broke her sobs to smile with sudden relief.

  “He’s alive,” she said excitedly. “Jazzy, he’s not dead!”

  “Lily,” Jazzy said again. “Look up.”

  A massive figure, seven feet tall, was striding towards the scene across the grass. Lily had imagined meeting her father many times during her childhood, but nothing could have prepared her for the shocking sight that was his face. Every hazy detail from the two-way mirror was thrown into oversharp focus as the mountain of a man crossed the grassy patch between them. His alabaster face was framed by a wild and ragged mass of silver-blonde hair that also gathered all over his jaw and chin. A large, hooked nose protruded from his harsh, stony features and the lips, almost hidden by his silver beard, curled up at the corners when he laid eyes on his daughter.

  Most disturbing of all were those eyes. In the right socket, an almond orb glowed the same hue as Lily’s own, but in the left was the glass replacement her mother had spoken of, only it didn’t look much like glass to Lily. A perfectly white iris gazed out of the dead socket, staring straight at Lily, even when the turncoat’s other eye moved to survey the body on the floor. If this was Maxime’s glamour, then his powers would be focused and at the height of their ferocity.

  “You must be my Lily,” the leader of the shadehunters growled.

  “I’m not your anything,” Lily said, rising slowly to her feet. She stood in front of Jazzy and Novel’s body, slowly considering her options for escape against the giant before her.

  “We’re family sweetheart,” Maxime crooned in his foreign rasp. “You can’t change that.”

  Lily clutched her hammering heart, her hand finding the rose quartz necklace again. It was growing hot under her touch. The shade grenade.

  “I guess you’re right,” Lily answered. “You are my father, after all.”

  Maxime gave a wide grin full of sharp teeth. He too wore the brown cloak of a shadehunter, though his body was adorned with other magical charms that hung from his belt and bandolier: feathers and bones and all manner of runic signs. Lily caught sight of a wolf’s teeth necklace, stretching down toward his massive chest, and her grip on her pendant tightened. She attempted a calm demeanour, hoping that her plan was enough to scrape her way to survival.

  “Perhaps we’re more alike than you know,” she continued.

  “How so, my sweet?” Maxime asked, amused.

  “We’re both really good at running away from each other,” she replied.

  Lily threw the pendant onto the grass and smashed it with her heel, sending shockwaves of wild energy out into the park. With a strong push of her shaking hands, the simultaneous blasts rushed at Maxime, months of erratic energy finding its freedom and unleashing itself upon the gargantuan man. He fell to the ground encased in waves of lightning, water, flames and air. Lily turned quickly to Jazzy, who snapped out of her terrified trance.

  “Help me pick Novel up,” she barked as Jazzy scrambled to obey. “The theatre’s protected. We have to get him there fast.”

  The Dream Come True

  Baptiste was already waiting inside the shadows of the main doors to the Imaginique when they arrived with Novel’s comatose body. It was as though the MC’s concerned, shining eyes ha
d already sensed that something had gone terribly wrong in Novel’s quest to bring Lily back to the theatre. Salem was called, and arrived in an instant to levitate his son down into the sitting room, laying him out on one of the sofas with a furious look in his cobalt eyes. He turned to Lily with a helpless anger.

  “He was out all night, then he raced back here and woke us all,” Salem explained. “He said he had to get you, and then he’d tell us all something.”

  “He spoke of a terrible danger, but he didn’t say what exactly,” Baptiste completed.

  His usually-calming presence was long gone, leaving the gentleman fierce and unhinged as he loomed over Novel’s unconscious form. Lily shook her head and spared Jazzy a kind look.

  “He didn’t get to tell me either,” she revealed.

  “What happened?” Salem demanded.

  “Maxime shot a dart at him,” Lily tried to explain. “It was purple, I didn’t really see it.”

  “I did,” Jazzy replied, fumbling in her pocket. “I picked it up, in case we needed it.”

  Lily gave her a grateful smile as Baptiste took the weapon from her hand. He ran his tongue along its tip gingerly, licking his lips with thought. It was strange to see that the MC had no concern whatsoever about being affected by the same magic that had rendered Novel so inert.

  “A sleeping potion,” he assured, “and a potent one at that.”

  “Can we wake him?” Lily pressed.

  The elegant man shook his head. “Not soon, if at all.”

  “We need to know what he found out!” Salem insisted. “It was vital. He said we had everything wrong.”

  Lily sucked in a sob and put her hand on Novel’s hardly-moving chest, bending to kiss the side of his face. She would find a way to wake him in time, but now that she had made the first attack against her beast of a father, time may not be on their side for very long. Salem and Baptiste were staring to argue about comas and curses, but Jazzy gave a little cough.

  “Excuse me,” she said, “but can anyone hear that music?”

  Lily raced to the door of the sitting room, straining her ears. Somewhere upstairs were the melodious, hypnotic notes of a violin. Lily pounded out of the room, sparing a look to find Salem leaping after her as they both raced up the three flights of stairs. They followed the string of notes like a breadcrumb trail, which led them to Novel’s bedroom. In the corner, just as he’d once told Lily, was Edvard’s violin, playing itself within its case. Stepping closer, Lily reached out and unhooked its ancient fastening. The case swung open naturally, and continued to play as she and Salem stood panting and listening. Edvard’s voice emanated from within the notes, the loud melody softening into an old, familiar tune.

  Requiem [rest]

  Requiem [rest]

  Somnum dilectione mea [sleep my love]

  Requiem [rest]

  Requiem [rest]

  Dormient somnum sempiternum [sleep evermore]

  “Sleep?” Salem heaved. “What has sleep got to do with anything?” But the lyrics continued as Lily listened on.

  In spirit

  In heart

  And in thee

  Spiritu [spirit]

  Corde [heart]

  Et Vos [and you]

  “Being of one mind,” Lily began, trying to remember the words of the Book of Shade, “this is about kindred souls.” She spun on her heel as she worked out the clue, her face lighting up brightly at Salem’s confused glare. “It’s about sleep… because kindred souls can meet in the Dreamstate! Novel and I did it once before! If I go to sleep, perhaps I can talk to him, find out what we need to know.”

  Salem broke into the widest grin of his life, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her as the music died away.

  “Brilliant!” he cried, but then he let her go again suddenly. “One problem though. Dreamstate meetings only happen over distance. You couldn’t do it within these walls.”

  Lily bit her lip in thought. “I’ll go back to the dorm,” she insisted. “They may know I’m a student, but they haven’t found out where I live yet. It should give us enough time.”

  Salem shook his head. “They’ll be looking for you!” he pressed. “I’m willing to bet they’re already forming a siege around this building.”

  Lily gave him a smile. “I have an idea for that too.”

  “Um… hello?” Jazzy called from somewhere downstairs. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but there’s more weird stuff happening down here that you ought to see.”

  Lily could literally feel her feet flying with natural gravity as she descended the stairs, with Salem once more in tow. She found Jazzy and Baptiste standing in the corridor next to the big double doors of the auditorium, but before she could ask why they looked so terrified, an echoing, rasping voice called out from within the theatre.

  “Lily.”

  Maxime Schoonjans’s voice was calling her from backstage, louder than anything she had ever heard as it echoed deep into the echelons of the stage and stalls. Her lips began to shake as she looked to Baptiste.

  “You said no-one could get in,” she whispered.

  “Not unless we summon them,” Baptiste agreed.

  “It isn’t real,” Salem insisted. “A shade that powerful inside these walls… I’d feel it. His body isn’t here.”

  “Then where’s that voice coming from?” Jazzy asked.

  With trembling steps, Lily followed the sound of her father’s repeated call until she found herself treading down the backstage corridor where the dressing rooms were. She knew already that the voice would be coming from Room 14, but it still shocked her when she opened the door and saw Maxime’s wild face filling the space of Novel’s ornate mirror. He grinned at her and rubbed his skin, the space between his beard and his brow was coated in tiny scorches and lightning flowers.

  “You’re a wicked girl,” he mused, “just like your Daddy.”

  Lily steeled herself against the reflection.

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  “You,” Maxime answered. “On my side, where you belong.”

  “So you can wipe out the people I care about?” she accused viciously.

  “So we can take our place at the top of the food chain,” he explained. “Wouldn’t you like to have the whole world at your disposal, to live exactly to your own design?”

  “Perhaps,” Lily whispered, “but not with you.”

  The turncoat’s expression changed to a shocking grimace, his wild hair making him look more like an animal with every snarl he gave.

  “Insolent child!” he bellowed. “You have until the next sunrise to change your mind. Side with me, or die with them.” Maxime gave a little irritated shrug. “I am not always this merciful, but I give you this choice, because you are my blood.”

  “Blood doesn’t do this to blood!” Lily cried, picking up Novel’s make-up box and throwing it straight at the mirror.

  The glass cracked in the centre and spread out like a Lichtenberg, until all the pieces inside the brass frame fell away. Salem had been watching the scene from the door, but now he entered and forced Lily to turn and face him.

  “Are you insane?” he shouted. “That’s seven years’ bad luck!”

  Lily’s face dropped. “That’s a real thing?” she asked in horror.

  “It is for us!” Salem retorted in a panic.

  “It doesn’t matter!” Baptiste interjected. “You’re not going to live through the next twelve hours if we don’t speak to Novel. You heard what Schoonjans said. At sunrise, all of us die.”

  “The Dreamstate then,” Lily said, shaking herself back into focus. “I need to get back to Novel first.”

  She pushed her way determinedly through the men and raced back to the sitting room, where Jazzy was still waiting. Novel was breathing peacefully, his face slack and silent. Lily dropped to her knees beside him and gently slipped her hand inside his coat, looking for an inner pocket. She found what she was looking for, a little white business card, but as she pulled the card
jerkily from Novel’s pocket, something else fell out and rolled down his chest, bouncing onto the floor with a metallic clang. Lily followed the glinting object until it stopped rolling, trapping it under her hand. When she raised it to her eye, the faint afternoon sun revealed the ring from Waite’s Jewellers.

  “Your ring! Wait, he actually bought it for you?” Jazzy questioned.

  Lily stared at it, tears welling again in her eyes. “It vanished weeks ago, before we ever said anything to each other about our feelings.”

  Salem stepped into the room. He did not try to take the ring from Lily’s fingers, but he turned it in her grip to inspect the stones.

  “Lemarick’s a Son of Garnet,” he explained. “No wonder you liked it so much.”

  She pulled the ring back to her own viewpoint, watching its shining garnet and diamond stones. Looking back to Novel, Lily leant in and kissed him again, this time on his sleeping lips.

  “I’m going to fix this,” she promised in a breathy tone. “I’m going to wake you up.”

  She put the ring back into his pocket, right above his heart, and rose to her feet, looking again at the business card in her hand.

  “Gideon Pratt?” Salem asked as she flipped it over to the runic symbol on the other side.

  “He can take me right to my room,” Lily explained.

  “Someone will have to go with you,” Salem insisted.

  “Well I can’t,” said Baptiste sadly, glancing out of the window into the afternoon sun. “You know I can’t.”

  “Then it’ll be me,” Salem added.

  Lily put a hand to his chest. “No way,” she said. “I need you here to protect Novel.”

  “But you’ll be asleep! Defenceless!” he protested fiercely.

  “You’re going to do the right thing for once,” Lily ordered. “What all fathers ought to do. Stand by your son and, perhaps for the first time in your life, look after him a little!”