Princess of Shadows (Obsidian Queen Book 2)

by Shannon Lynn Cook

  “Did the guild rent the tux for the weekend?” I ask as we walk, figuring it’s a safe question, trying to keep my mind off whatever it is that loiters in the trees.

  “No, it’s mine. I bought it last year.”

  “What for?”

  Jonathan glances at me and then looks ahead. “A ceremony thing.”

  “What kind of ceremony thing?”

  Why are the men in my life being so ridiculously vague about everything all of a sudden?

  He chuckles, though he looks distracted. “A Knights’ Guild event celebrating our team’s supreme awesomeness. Gray made a speech. We drank some champagne.”

  I have a feeling it was a bigger deal than he wants me to know, and I wonder what they were being rewarded for.

  “There was one thing that was actually pretty funny.” The knight turns, gently swatting my arm, already laughing at the memory. “Halfway through, Eric—”

  Neither of us expects it when the monster lunges from the shadows and leaps on Jonathan’s back.

  I scream, stumbling back. “No!”

  More of the creatures surround us, several landing on Jonathan, their talons digging into his flesh, their leathery wings fluttering like mad.

  Imps.

  “Stop—” Before I can finish the command, a taloned hand wraps over my mouth, trapping the words. The imp clings to me, holding me like a koala hugging a tree, as its friends attack my Griffon. Several more jump around on the ground, only two feet tall, screaming with mirth, egging their friends on.

  I wrestle with the beast as Jonathan fights. Recovering from the initial surprise, the knight pulls out his dagger and stabs one in the belly. It lets out a gurgled cry, and black blood oozes from the wound. Jonathan fights his way to his feet, grasping one around its scrawny neck and heaving it across the garden. More come to the monsters’ aid until there are dozens of them, all attacking Jonathan.

  Finally, I work an arm free and yank up my dress, reaching for the Taser strapped to my thigh. I zap the creature who’s wrapped himself around me, aiming blindly. He jolts and then falls to the ground.

  “STOP!” I yell into the night.

  And just like that, the pandemonium comes to an abrupt halt. Three imps hang from Jonathan, and they turn to me, at full attention, their six-inch ears quivering as they await my command. They look like winged gremlins, with too-large golden eyes and thin, hair-like black fur covering their bodies.

  Looking seriously ticked, Jonathan turns to the creature grasping his shoulder and punches it square in the face, sending it flying to the ground. The other two scramble away from him, terrified.

  “How dare you touch me,” I say to the one at my feet. Rage like I’ve never felt builds in me, making my magic spark.

  The creature crawls back, babbling nonsense in a language I don’t understand.

  I look at Jonathan. “Are you all right?”

  “One of the freaky demons bit me,” he says, scowling at his arm. Blood seeps through his white tuxedo shirt.

  If I were a Dragon, I’d light them all on fire.

  “Why did you attack?” I demand, not even sure they understand me.

  A brave one crawls forward, his belly dragging on the ground, and positions himself in front of me. He then turns and caws at Jonathan. More follow suit until I’m worried they just might lunge on the knight again.

  “They’re protecting you,” Jonathan says, his tone flat. “The monsters…are protecting you. From me.”

  “You will not attack Jonathan,” I command, just in case the last dose of persuasion is about to wear off. Then I turn back to the Griffon. “But why?”

  “I hit you.”

  “What? You didn’t hit—” I begin to scoff, and then I remember. Jonathan got excited, was going to tell me what ridiculous thing Eric did at the ceremony, and he swatted my arm. It didn’t hurt—not in the slightest. But technically, yes, he struck me.

  And my band of evil minions attacked.

  Unable to help itself, one hisses at Jonathan now, looking very much like it would like to sink its teeth into him again.

  “What do I do?” I ask.

  Jonathan stares at the small monsters. “How about you send them away.”

  “Right.” I turn to the beasts. “Go home. Hurt no one on your way.”

  They turn to face me, their eyes…pleading. It’s almost like they don’t want to leave, but they can’t resist the magic.

  Slowly, they lift into the sky, squalling at me as they go, looking over their bony monster shoulders, watching me for as long as possible until they disappear into the night.

  “This is not normal.” Jonathan shakes his head and then looks back at his arm and swears.

  “They’re not venomous, are they?” I ask as soon as the thought pops into my head. My heart nearly stops. I rush to the knight, ripping back his shredded sleeve. The wound is several inches wide and dripping blood. Horrified, I meet his eyes. “Jonathan, are they venomous?”

  “I have no idea. You’re more a monster expert than I am.”

  I can’t breathe. I can’t even think.

  What have I done?

  I start to panic, rational thought going right out the window. I grab my phone, grateful I have it for once, and immediately call Rafe.

  “What happened to you two?” he asks in lieu of a hello. “We just started serving—”

  “Jonathan’s been attacked.”

  “Where are you?” he demands.

  I look again at the bite on Jonathan’s arm, and my world gets fuzzy around the edges. “Out the south-west doors, past the terrace, in the garden.”

  “I’m on my way. What attacked him?”

  “Imps. At least I’m pretty sure they were imps—they stood about two feet, a little hunched over, had leathery wings and long ears.”

  “Was he bitten?”

  “Yes,” I choke.

  “Were they black or gray?” Rafe asks, his voice clinical, all business.

  “Black.”

  My knight swears a string of words that would make a sailor blush, not sounding quite as calm as he did a moment ago.

  I’m about to demand he tell me what black means when he bursts through the mansion door, running to us like there’s a dragon on his heels.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Guys,” Jonathan says, looking at the two of us like we’ve lost our minds. “I feel fine. It’s just a bite.”

  Rafe yanks Jonathan’s arm so he can look at it closer.

  “Now it’s dislocated, thank you very much,” Jonathan grumbles. “But it was fine before.”

  “Idiot,” my knight growls under his breath. “Why’d you let it bite you?”

  Jonathan scoffs. “Oh, I don’t know. He looked hungry, so I offered my arm.”

  “Okay.” Rafe steps back, ignoring the Griffon’s feeble attempt at humor. “There’s a Deer in Dillon. We need to get you to him. We have one hour, maybe two, before you’re dead.”

  “We can take the Porsche,” I say.

  Jonathan pales and starts shaking his head. “If I get so much as a drop of blood—”

  “Shut up,” Rafe commands, dosing the words with a substantial amount of persuasion.

  It’s so potent, even I flinch.

  Jonathan glares at Rafe, unable to fight the magic, helpless to do anything but obey.

  “I’ll stay with Jonathan,” Rafe says when we reach the staff’s housing. “Go up and find Eric and Gray. We need to let them know what’s going on.”

  “What if something else attacks?”

  The two men tense, neither wanting to admit they can’t fight something dark and scary without me.

  “For the love of—you go tell them,” I command Rafe. Before he disappears into the building, I add, “And get the keys!”

  I turn to Jonathan. “You can speak again.”

  “The two of you need to knock that crap off,” the Griffon immediately says when my magic releases him from Rafe’s charm. He works his jaw like it’s
been days since he uttered his last word and not mere minutes.

  “How are you feeling?”

  He frowns. “My jaw’s a little tight.”

  That can’t be good. Do imps paralyze like the winged cats? Is his heart going to slow to a crawl and then finally cease to beat?

  I start to panic all over again. “Can you feel all your appendages?”

  Jonathan flashes me a look that’s entirely inappropriate for the situation. “Which ones are we talking about specifically?”

  “Legs, Jonathan,” I say, impatient. “Arms, toes, fingers.”

  Before he can answer, the rest of our team comes barreling out the door in various stages of undress. Well, it’s only Gray that’s undressed.

  “What were you doing?” I demand as he finishes zipping up his pants, and then I realize I probably don’t want to know. “Never mind.”

  Eric swears when he sees Jonathan’s arm. “I’ll wrap it on the way.”

  “I’ll drive,” Gray says.

  Rafe is already propelling me toward the staff parking area to the east of the house. “Madeline and I will follow in my car.”

  I glance at the wounded Griffon. “But I want to go with Jonathan.”

  Jonathan’s gaze falls on me, and his face softens. “Stop fussing over me. I feel—” Suddenly, he stumbles as a bout of dizziness hits him.

  “Jonathan!” I holler, but Eric’s already got the Griffon by the good arm, and he’s dragging him toward the garages where the rich people’s toys are kept.

  Jonathan shoves Eric off. “I got it.”

  Eric waits to make sure Jonathan doesn’t topple over, and then he steps back. “If you say so.”

  Before anyone can stop me, I cross to Jonathan, cup the back of his neck, and press my lips to his in a brief but hard kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that says, “I’m so sorry my imp minions poisoned you” and “if you die before we make it to the healer, I’ll murder you.”

  Kisses don’t have to make sense.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see our team members tense, but I ignore them.

  Jonathan looks…conflicted.

  “I’m sorry,” I breathe when I pull away. “I’ll see you there, all right?”

  Jonathan wobbles again, but he nods. “I’m good, I swear.”

  Then he passes out.

  ***

  “Hmmm,” the Deer says as he examines Jonathan’s arm.

  Our Griffon is awake again, but barely. He’s too pale. Perspiration beads on his forehead, and each breath looks like it’s going to be his last.

  I want to scream at the man to get on with it, but I hold my tongue, waiting impatiently with the rest of the team.

  We’re in the healer’s home, right in his dining room, and Jonathan is stretched out on a sheet on the dinner table. The man’s wife was surprisingly accommodating considering she was having a dinner party when we arrived. Her guests lit a bonfire in the backyard of the acreage, grabbed jackets, and moved the party outside.

  I’ll have to send her a thank you card when we get home. Unless Jonathan dies because the healer insists on taking his time, saying variations of “hmm,” and “well” eight billion times before actually doing something.

  The Deer stands back, rubbing his chin. “Well…hmmm.”

  Rafe sets a hand on my shoulder, probably sensing I’m going to ring the man’s neck.

  “An imp, you say?” The man directs the question at Rafe. “Very strange. I don’t think we’ve ever seen any around here in these parts.”

  “It was an imp, sir,” Rafe says, just as impatient as me but far calmer.

  “All right.” He turns again to Jonathan and studies him. “I’ll mix something up, but there will be side effects.”

  “Side effects?” Jonathan manages to ask.

  “A few.”

  “Such as?”

  “What does it matter?” I bark at the knight. “It’s either side effects, or you die.”

  “Nausea, vomiting, and possible fever,” the man answers, and we relax. Those are all preferable to death.

  “Very rarely hair loss-”

  “Hair loss!” Jonathan croaks, his eyes widening. “Absolutely not.”

  I clamp a hand over the knight’s mouth, resisting the urge to use my magic on him. “Anything else?” I ask the healer.

  The man, who should be in the Sloth faction, nods slowly. “I’ve had one case of impotence, but it’s hard to say if it was related.”

  “Let me die,” Jonathan mumbles, groaning.

  “You would rather die than never be able to have sex again?” I demand, knowing he’ll surely realize he’s being ridiculous when he hears it out loud.

  “Who wouldn’t?” Eric asks, and every single one of the fool men in attendance nods.

  “Heal him,” I snarl at the Deer, packing the words with persuasion. I’m done. “Now.”

  Immediately, the man turns and hurries away.

  “Never persuade a healer,” Rafe says. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you can get in for that? Didn’t you read the book of law Finn gave you?”

  I lean close, whispering so the others won’t hear. “I am an evil queen, remember? I’ll do what I want.”

  Rafe looks like he would be amused if his friend wasn’t moments from death.

  As we wait, I pace the room. Jonathan once again drifts into unconsciousness, but he’s still breathing. Occasionally, Eric checks his pulse.

  I’m about ready to march into the back and see what’s taking the man so long when he finally comes through the door, carrying a steaming mug.

  The aroma of the concoction drifts to us, and I almost gag. It smells like someone boiled the contents of a teen boy’s gym bag in a vat of tomato juice and bananas.

  No wonder nausea and vomiting are side effects. How couldn’t they be?

  “One of you is going to have to open his mouth while I pour it in,” the healer instructs.

  The three grown men gape at the concoction, looking about ready to be ill themselves.

  I growl and step forward. “What do I do?”

  Minutes later, the Deer is force feeding Jonathan the mixture, while I’m staring at the ceiling, holding my breath, tears running down my face as I try to keep Jonathan’s mouth open.

  The Griffon has no idea how fortunate he is that he passed out again.

  “There,” the man says, finally finished. He produces a roll of paper towels and attempts to clean Jonathan up a bit. Then he steps back and looks at his watch. “Five minutes.”

  “Five minutes until what?”

  “Until he vomits it all up.”

  I gape at the man. “What if he doesn’t?”

  “Oh, he will.” The man goes into the kitchen to wash his hands, and then he pops back. “My wife has extra steaks. Anyone hungry?”

  How can anyone think of eating after that?

  “Sure,” Eric says, and then Rafe and Gray chime in as well.

  “What’s wrong with you!” I exclaim. “You can’t just leave him here.”

  Gray frowns. “There’s not a lot we can do.”

  “Fine.” I wave my hands. “Just go.”

  Which, of course, is female for “You, sir, are a schmuck.”

  Gray and Eric follow the healer to the backyard, but Rafe crosses the room and sets his hands on my shoulders. “He’s going to be fine, Lexie.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because it’s part of the job. We’ve all been the unconscious one in the corner, waiting for a healer’s concoction to take effect. It just happens to be Jonathan’s turn this time.”

  “This was my fault.”

  He gives me a dry look. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was. The imps wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for me.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. These things just happen.”

  “The creatures don't belong here.”

  Rafe frowns, his eyes searching mine, probably wondering where I’m going with t
his.

  “They should be in Aparia,” I say. “Not here.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  I stare at him. He knows what I’m saying. He knows.

  But before he can think of a way to respond, Jonathan throws up one minute too early.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “I feel like death,” Jonathan whines from his seat next to me in the back of the Porsche.

  “We’ll get you up to the room, and you can sleep,” I promise him.

  “You should have let me die.”

  I roll my eyes. He can pull a gun on a sprite without blinking, but now that he’s a little queasy, he’s a wreck.

  “At least the healer fixed your arm and all the talon wounds.” I point out. “That’s good, right?”

  Jonathan lets out a low groan and tips his head back against the seat.

  After what feels like forever, we pull up to the mansion’s gates. From the driver’s seat, Eric growls. “It’s after ten.”

  “So?” I ask.

  The Bunny turns to look at me. “The gates are locked.”

  Of course they are. I’m this close to completely losing it.

  I throw my car door open and step into the cold autumn night. The cool breeze swirls around my bare legs. I’m still in my too-short, too-revealing black cocktail dress—which ended up being overkill for the evening’s events.

  I march to the gate, wondering where to direct my magic.

  Headlights flash behind me as Rafe pulls up next to the Porsche. Leaving the car running, he joins me. “What are you doing?”

  “The gate’s locked. I’m trying to figure out how to work it. I’ve never done something like this before.”

  “I got it,” he says, nudging me toward the Porsche. “You’ll freeze out here.”

  Normally, I’d argue that I should learn, but tonight, I’m just too tired, so I leave him to it. It must be tricky because we sit for quite a while, and I’m grateful I’m not standing out there with him. I do, however, stay alert just in case something else decides to pay us a visit tonight.

  When the gate opens, Eric slowly drives through, taking us down the light-lined lane. I was right the first day we showed up—it is pretty when the lantern-style lamps are illuminated.