Shadow

by Christi J. Whitney

  ‘The kris is concluded,’ said Leo.

  Phillipe stomped forward. ‘How dare you put this off on the High Council, Nicolas!’ the Marksman spat viscously. ‘They’ll think we can’t handle our own problems! You’ll make us look weak before—’

  Quentin cut him off. ‘That’s enough, Phillipe.’

  ‘But this gargoyle,’ protested Phillipe, gesturing at me with the point of his long diamond-encrusted knife. ‘He can’t be set free!’

  ‘I agree,’ replied Quentin. His eyes were like shards of black ice. ‘We can’t allow the creature to roam free in our camp. His guilt hasn’t been determined, but neither has his innocence.’

  Gypsies all around the tent shouted their support.

  Nicolas turned to the crowd and raised his voice. ‘I understand your concerns, but we have to treat this situation logically. If the gargoyle isn’t responsible for this murder, then we’re dealing with something that has eluded an entire regiment of Marksmen.’ Nicolas’ face darkened. ‘I’m ordering everyone to confine themselves to their quarters for the rest of the night.’

  ‘And the demon?’ Phillip pressed, glaring at me.

  ‘Will be contained.’ Nicolas met my gaze for a brief moment, but it was impossible to read the expression on his face. ‘I’m placing the gargoyle directly under the supervision of Quentin Marks until I can contact the High Council for instructions. Does this satisfy both the krisnitori and the kris?’

  Agreement was unanimous.

  ‘I want all council members and family representatives in my trailer immediately,’ continued Nicolas. ‘We have matters to discuss concerning our next course of action. As for the rest of the troupe, we’ll meet in the morning to inform you of our plans.’

  And with that, the kris was over.

  Quentin barked out orders, instructing his Marksmen to double the perimeter sweeps and camp security. The dark clad Gypsies shouldered their weapons and scurried out of the tent. The rest of the troupe was slower to leave, and their sharp glances felt like rocks being hurled in my direction as they passed.

  I lifted my head and saw Phoebe walking out with Claire and Zara, on the outskirts of the departing group. Our eyes met.

  ‘I didn’t do this.’ My throat felt like cracked leather as I spoke. ‘Please believe me.’

  Zara turned away, pulling Claire with her. I swallowed hard, feeling the hot sting of moisture in the corners of my eyes. But Phoebe hesitated. Her normally smiling expression was gone. Her gaze snapped briefly to the Marksmen around me. Her clan. When she looked at me again, I noted the slightest nod of her head in my direction.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered, more to myself than to her. I nodded back, wanting to feel grateful that not everyone had totally turned on me, but my chest felt painfully hollow.

  Francis stood next to Nicolas, exchanging tense words as the tent emptied. Nearby, Quentin had joined Josephine behind the table. I could sense the argument between them in emotional waves, though I couldn’t hear anything over the crowd and their flinging insults.

  My back tightened as I watched Quentin touch Josephine’s arm. She shrugged him off. He leaned in, speaking close to her ear. At first, Josephine’s chin lifted, but I felt her emotions shift as he continued to talk. Finally, she nodded reluctantly. Quentin wrapped his arm around her shoulder, guiding her towards the back exit. Josephine didn’t look at me as they left.

  Suddenly, it wasn’t the chains pressing on my chest, suffocating me. It was the dark, oppressive feeling of utter hopelessness. I closed my eyes, praying for some kind of release from the sensation.

  I wasn’t expecting my prayers to be answered so soon.

  ‘Hey, freak!’

  My head jerked up. Phillipe scowled at me, his arms crossed over his chest. Gathered around him were seven Marksmen – Stephan and Jacque among them.

  I really didn’t like these guys.

  ‘We’re talking to you, beast!’ Stephan spat.

  ‘Yeah, I gathered that, what with the clever insults and all.’

  Jacque’s thin face came close to mine. ‘Funny, gargoyle.’

  Each man was large and imposing in his own way, but I singled Phillipe out of the crowd. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the camp or something?’

  ‘Oh, we are,’ he replied menacingly. ‘From you.’

  The Marksmen formed a half circle around me. My shoulders cramped painfully. I felt weak from lack of food, and the diamond wrist cuffs not only prevented my attempts at shadowing, they seemed to drain my energy as well.

  ‘Defying Quentin’s orders, are we?’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘I never pegged you guys as the independent types. That involves a higher level of thinking that requires, you know, a brain.’

  The smile stretched thin on Stephan’s face. ‘We are following orders, beast. We were told to watch over you until suitable … housing … is arranged for your worthless carcass. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun while we wait.’

  Phillipe reached for his belt. An imposing looking whip hung in coils from his hip. He unfastened it and gripped the thick leather handle. The cord fell to the floor like a long black snake. The whip sparkled in the torchlight, and I saw shards of diamonds embedded in the leather.

  Oh, great.

  My lip curled away from my teeth, and I strained against the heavy links of chain around my arms and torso. The other Marksmen laughed in eager anticipation – like hyenas closing in on a kill.

  ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve properly tortured a shadow demon,’ Phillipe said. ‘I’m really going to enjoy the refresher.’

  ‘Go ahead, then,’ I growled, anger flooding my senses. ‘I wouldn’t want to interfere with your job satisfaction.’

  I heard the whip before I saw it – cracking in the air like a firework on the Fourth of July. When it struck, the air went out of my lungs, temporarily obliterating any other sensation in my body.

  And then the pain hit.

  My head exploded with it, and I clamped down as hard as I could, grinding my teeth so I wouldn’t cry out. My leg gave way beneath me. My haze-filled vision caught sight of a deep slash along the top of my thigh. Phillip yanked the whip back with a sneer.

  ‘Cuts through gargoyle flesh like a hot knife through butter,’ he said. ‘An expensive weapon, but well worth it.’

  The air shifted, followed by another crack that pierced my eardrums. When the pain hit, everything went red. My other leg caved in, and the chains dug into my ribs. This time, though, there was no banter from the Marksmen – no chance for me to recover.

  The whip struck again and again; each blow ripping through my clothes and splitting my skin. In the back of my brain, I knew he was taunting me; the whip could do more damage than this. I was just part of the Marksmen’s playtime.

  After the twelfth blow, everything around me started to spin. But I flexed my shoulders, raised my chin, and stared defiantly at Phillipe. My eyes flashed hot, and a snarl erupted from my throat.

  ‘Is that all you’ve got, Gypsy?’

  The Marksman’s wicked grin disintegrated into a furious line across his lips. He flicked the whip behind him, and his fingers tightened around the handle until his knuckles bulged.

  ‘You’re going to beg for death!’ he thundered.

  I readied myself for the blow.

  Suddenly the tent flap burst open and Bruno tore through, his bow in one hand and an arrow in the other.

  ‘Come quick,’ he shouted, ‘we’re under attack in the woods – can’t spare any more men – need to keep a guard on the camp!’ He gestured with his bow, already moving towards the exit. ‘Hurry!’

  The group shouldered their weapons and made for the opening in the canvas with trained efficiency. My brain fought against the pain. Under attack? I had to get to Josephine! I yanked with all my strength at the chains. A black shadow crossed my face. Phillipe’s large form towered over mine, and there was hatred in his eyes.

  ‘I’m going to take care of
your demon spawn friends,’ he said darkly. ‘And then, I’m coming back for you.’

  His body moved like lightning, and the whip was nothing but a blur. The skin of my chest split open as the diamond shards ripped my flesh. My agonized roar pierced my ears. White bolts of pain blinded me. I slumped forward.

  And all went black.

  When I came to, the tent was empty. It hurt to move, so several minutes passed before I lifted my head. My frayed nerves registered pain in so many places at once that my head pounded with it.

  Purple-black blood coated the thighs of my jeans. The same was true of my arms. My wrists ached and my ribs were sore. My flesh felt like it had been flayed alive. Blood seeped through my shirt along a nasty gash that stretched across my chest in a diagonal line. I groaned, feeling weak all over.

  I sniffed the air. The Marksmen were long gone and their burning scent had faded, but my body felt chilled and feverish at the same time. What was happening in the woods? I shifted my body uncomfortably against the chains and manacles. At least Josephine was with her family, and Quentin would make sure she was safe.

  Something changed in the air. I jerked upright and sniffed. Josephine’s scent flooded my nostrils. She was supposed to be with Quentin, not here. Adrenaline fanned my instincts. She needed to be with someone who could keep her safe. I desperately searched the empty tent. She was lingering just inside the opening, her eyes searching as well.

  Until they met mine.

  She closed the distance between us so quickly that I didn’t have time to catch my breath.

  ‘Sebastian!’

  ‘Josephine!’ My throat felt like sandpaper. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Her gaze swept over my body in horror. ‘Oh God, what have they done?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I replied, forcing a smile.

  She gave a choked laugh, which sounded like she was on the verge of actually crying. ‘You suck at lying, you know.’ She glanced around the tent. ‘Are they still here?’

  ‘They’re in the woods,’ I said, repositioning my body to alleviate the pressure of the chains. ‘Bruno said they were under attack and needed more men. Are you okay? What’s going on?’

  ‘A handful of grotesques near the back gates,’ she replied, and I heard reluctance in her voice as she looked away. ‘And two chimeras.’

  I growled, low in my throat. ‘I should’ve—’

  Josephine’s fingers pressed against my mouth, stopping my words. ‘Don’t go there,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m the one who told you to leave them. The Marksmen will deal with the shadowen. Even if you had killed those chimeras on the mountain, it wouldn’t have prevented all this from happening.’

  I swallowed down another growl. Josephine was right. But the truth didn’t help the pain. And it wouldn’t bring Karl back from the dead. Her hand left my mouth and settled against my neck, pressing against my collarbone. Our eyes locked, and emotions passed silently between us; the kind of unspoken conversation that I’d grown to treasure.

  A wave of pain flashed across my back, and my wings cramped. I shifted my body against the chains to ease the pressure, trying my best not to grimace. ‘You should get back, Josephine. If your father knew—’

  ‘I refused to sit there listening to them argue about what to do next, not when I knew you were still here, tied up like an—’ She stopped short of finishing the thought. ‘Quentin won’t listen to me. And my father can’t usurp the will of the kris.’ Josephine’s gaze drifted down my body, and her face contorted. ‘I had no idea they were doing this to you!’ A tear escaped and trailed slowly down her cheek.

  ‘Josephine, I’m fine, really. Supernatural creature, remember?’

  The wound across my chest had closed, but I knew it would take some time to fully heal. I flinched at the sight of my dirty clothes, caked with dried, inhumanly colored blood, and the hideous lacerations criss-crossing my skin.

  There was a glimmer of hope in her expression – a desperate look. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘Believe me, I’ve had worse.’

  Josephine stared at me with a sort of incredulous wonder that made me warm and cold all over. ‘They’re wrong about you. I should have challenged my father and the kris. I should have forced Quentin to change his decision.’

  ‘There’s nothing you could’ve done. You just said that not even your father can go against the ruling. I don’t know much about your people’s laws, but I saw the power of the council tonight. They’d already made up their minds.’

  Josephine’s shoulders slumped; her face a mixture of relief and guilt. ‘I know my words wouldn’t have changed anything but, believe me, I’m not done trying. There has to be another way.’

  A strange, charged quiet fell between us as we stood looking at each other inside the empty tent. I leaned forward as much as I could against the chains, searching her face. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘For believing me.’

  ‘I’ve always believed you, Sebastian.’ Her hand left my neck and traveled gently to my cheek. ‘You’re the only one I can believe.’

  My wings shuddered beneath their straps as she stroked my face with the backs of her fingers. I wanted to run my hands through Josephine’s hair, to touch her face, to hold her hand in mine. But I couldn’t. I was trapped.

  By more than just metal chains and diamond spikes.

  My gaze drifted to the floor, and the pain returned – but this time, it was on the inside.

  ‘You need to get back to your family,’ I said. ‘And Quentin.’

  Then Josephine’s body shifted, and suddenly she was right against my chest; her head dipped underneath mine. Her mouth opened in a quiet gasp, and her breath bathed my skin with electricity.

  ‘Josephine …’

  I was pleading, protesting, my body caving in on itself – and then our lips touched.

  Sunlight met shadows.

  All the times I’d imagined kissing Josephine Romany – none of them compared. It was soft, chaste – yet sweet and spiced, like tangy cinnamon and warm caramel on an autumn evening. I forgot about my wounds and my pain as my world melted away. I didn’t feel the biting chains. Nothing mattered but her and the purity of that moment. It was more than I could’ve ever dreamed.

  And it ended too soon.

  I felt the hesitant tightening of her lips, and I pulled from the kiss at the same time. Her eyes slowly opened, lashes fluttering like butterflies. There was uncertainty in her look – an uncertainty I could feel – because it mirrored my own. But there was something else, something that warmed me almost as much as her kiss.

  Hope.

  Josephine’s fingers left my face and traced a delicate line down a muscle in my neck. Her touch felt cautious, even wary, but something seemed to compel her actions. I wondered if she felt the same draw; that need to make some kind of contact – something to offset the intense connection between us.

  ‘What can I do?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘I need to know you’re somewhere safe,’ I said, forcing the words to leave my mouth. I yanked once more at the chains – a uselessly frustrating gesture that made a snarl burn through my chest. ‘Please.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Josephine stepping back. Her fingers left my chest, leaving me chilled. ‘I’ll get you out of here, Sebastian.’

  It was a hollow promise, and we both knew it. We stared silently at each other for a moment. Then she turned and darted for the exit. As she passed under the canvas flap, she spun to face me. Her mouth opened, but she seemed to change her mind. She shook her head and ran out.

  My body trembled. Soon I was shaking all over, and my heart threatened to crack my sternum with its fierce beating. Thoughts swirled in my head so fast that I couldn’t make sense of anything – and I didn’t want to.

  I leaned against the tent support and tried to recover, though I knew it was impossible. Josephine’s warmth lingered around me. I wanted to live in it as long as possible. I didn’t know what the future held, but that one brief kiss had
given me new life. I would find a way out of this mess. Everything was going to be okay.

  Then I felt the cold.

  A snarl rippled my lips as I searched the darkness of the tent. It didn’t take long to pick him out of the shadows. His tall form strode slowly towards me – a collected, confident gait. He reeked of burnt spices and pungent arrogance. He circled me casually, taking in the series of slash marks across my body.

  ‘My boys have been taking care of you, I see.’

  I followed his movements carefully. ‘Not really. Actually, I’m thinking about filing a complaint.’

  Quentin stopped, his perfect lips pressed into a firm smile. ‘Not a bad idea. Their job performance is obviously in question, since they left you not only coherent, but with the ability to run your mouth.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ I demanded. ‘The best Marksman in the camp should be protecting the Romanys right now. Unless, maybe you don’t qualify anymore.’

  He backhanded me so hard across the jaw that my teeth rattled. I grunted and my knees wobbled, but I pushed myself up determinedly. I spat black blood onto the floor.

  ‘I see where your buddies get their substandard job training.’

  Only the sparking glint of fire in the Marksman’s black eyes conveyed his emotions. ‘I assure you, the roughing up you received this evening will be nothing compared to what I do to you. I’ve been content to bide my time, follow all the rules, and wait for the right moment to kill you. But that was before I saw your little Romeo act a moment ago.’

  The cold spread from my stomach to my heart like an infection. How long had he been hiding in the shadows of the tent while my senses had been occupied with Josephine?

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  As thanks for my reply, I received a hard fist in the stomach. I doubled over as far as the chain would allow and came up snarling.

  Quentin grabbed my shirt, slamming my head against the pole. ‘You think you’ve won Josephine over?’ he said fiercely. ‘You believe she’d ever give a demonic abomination like you a chance? You’re deluding yourself, gargoyle.’ His hand moved to my throat, and a knife I hadn’t noticed before was suddenly slicing into the outer layers of my skin. ‘This connection you share has grown irritating. I’m through with you fawning over my fiancée like a pathetic little puppy.’