Shadow

by Christi J. Whitney

  I tried to force a stoic face, but Quentin caught my reaction. A sly smirk twisted his features. The diamond knife dug into my skin as his brows rose in feigned surprise.

  ‘I’m sure Josephine’s told you how our traditions work,’ he continued. ‘You see, she and I have always been intended for each other. The Romany family maintains close blood ties with the Marks’. It’s been that way for centuries.’

  My jaw clenched. ‘You don’t love her.’

  ‘Of course I do. What’s not to love?’ He leaned closer, twisting the knife. ‘She’s beautiful, and charming when she wants to be … a little too stubborn, but it’s a trait all Queens should possess.’

  I couldn’t hide my shock. ‘But I thought—’

  ‘That her right to the throne was a secret?’ The Marksman laughed, low and mocking. ‘Nicolas hasn’t done as good a job of hiding things as he thinks. You ask me if I love Josephine Romany. Let’s just say, I love the possibilities she represents.’ His knife burned hot on my throat. ‘But all in good time. We’ll be married first. Seal the union, so to speak.’

  I snarled, lunging at the Marksman. The chains rattled and the wooden beam crackled in protest.

  Quentin gouged the knife deeper. ‘I don’t know what’s more amusing,’ he sneered. ‘The idea that you think you’re capable of real human emotions or the delusional belief that you actually had some chance with my future wife.’

  I forced my lips back over my teeth and stared the Marksman down with all the heat in my gaze. Anger poured through me like molten lava, but so did pain – deep, biting pain that came from the truth of his words.

  ‘So you’re going to kill me now, is that it?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Quentin replied coolly. ‘As much as I’d love to break my knife off in your stony guts, I’m not above the law. But once you’re found guilty of Karl’s death, I’ll watch fate take revenge for me.’

  ‘That’s why you didn’t vote at the kris,’ I said bitingly around my teeth. ‘So they’d be forced to send me away.’

  ‘There is some intelligence in that thick gray skull after all.’

  ‘You’re so sure this High Court will find me guilty?’

  Quentin’s smile curled like a snake. ‘Oh, they will, once they see what kind of creature you really are.’

  Something in his words froze my blood. I swallowed hard past the blade of his knife. ‘What do you mean?’

  The Marksman released the blade from my skin. He wiped my blood on the side of his pants and sheathed the weapon at his hip. ‘Karl’s books have been very helpful. Everything you would want to know about subduing shadowen was in those pages.’ He studied my surprised look. ‘You mean Karl never told you? He was always such a firm believer in the old tales. He thought he was protecting your kind by keeping his secrets. Unfortunately, he’s no longer around.’

  ‘You had something to do with his death,’ I said, my voice thickening. Quentin adjusted his bow across his back. I could see the tips of his feathered arrows over his shoulder as he simply stared at me, neither admitting nor denying my accusation. Anger and dread stabbed at me. I growled, feeling my chest rumble against the chains. ‘Did you just come to gloat, Marks, or is there something else?’

  Quentin reached into a small pouch hanging from his belt. He pulled out a syringe – one that looked ominously familiar – like the one Hugo had used on me after I’d transformed. The Marksman rolled it casually between his fingers.

  ‘You know, if I had my way, your blood would be decorating the floor right now. But at least I can have the satisfaction of seeing the High Council convict you of Karl’s death. And once that happens, it’s all over for you, gargoyle.’ He stepped closer to me, his eyes cold. ‘Because after we’re finished with you, Josephine will be sickened at the thought of ever touching you again.’

  I fought against the chains as the needle sank into my neck. The pain was brief. Almost instantly, my body felt heavy. I tried to speak, but the words slurred over my tongue. The Marksman capped the syringe and returned it to his pouch.

  ‘Good work, Quentin,’ said a low voice from the corner of the tent.

  I rolled my head, trying to see through my swirling vision.

  Quentin huffed. ‘Well, personally, I’d have preferred something more painful.’

  A man stepped out of the shadows. I blinked up at him. He tucked a loose strand of black hair behind his ear, revealing a long white scar on his cheek.

  ‘This is just the beginning,’ the man replied. ‘After all, we’ve much work to do.’ He turned to me. ‘Hello, Sebastian. It’s been a while.’

  I stared into Augustine’s smiling face.

  Then my head slumped uselessly against my chest.

  25. Controlling Destiny

  The chains squeezed mercilessly against my rib cage as vitamin D coursed through my veins. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t muster enough strength to lift my eyelids, let alone move. I was helpless, and worst of all, Quentin knew my weaknesses. Anger ran hot inside me even as my body went cold.

  ‘So what now?’ Quentin asked. ‘I’m sure it won’t be long before someone comes to check on the creature.’

  ‘And why is that?’ Augustine enquired.

  There was a slight pause.

  ‘Josephine was here earlier and, she … saw him.’ Quentin’s tone turned harsh. ‘I can only assume she went to her father. Somehow, this beast has managed to invoke Nicolas’ sympathies, and I highly doubt he’ll approve of his current condition.’

  ‘Why should that concern you? Didn’t you tell me you’d been put in charge of the gargoyle’s confinement?’ Smooth mockery laced Augustine’s voice. ‘I thought you were second in command around here.’

  ‘Nicolas’ word remains law.’

  ‘In most matters, yes,’ Augustine mused. ‘But the council holds the power within the kris, and opinions were divided, despite Nicolas’ efforts on the gargoyle’s behalf.’

  ‘It was easy to take advantage of the clan’s unrest.’

  Augustine laughed ominously. ‘Taking advantage of vulnerable situations is a tactic that works rather well, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’d rather be carving this demon’s stone heart from his chest,’ he replied. ‘I’ve done as you’ve asked, Augustine, but I don’t see the point of getting him before the High Council. He’s a shadow creature. He needs to be destroyed. It’s as simple as that.’

  Boots crunched over the floor as Augustine moved closer to me. The stench of burnt incense was strong, but I couldn’t cough. ‘Now you see, that’s your problem, Quentin,’ he said. ‘You always fail to see the bigger picture. You Marks have let your overzealous commitment to clan protection taint your vision of the future. Shadowen were created to serve our purposes, but you’ve never acknowledged their potential – how they can work to our advantage.’

  The Marksman made a scoffing noise. ‘How can these demons be worth anything to us? Look at your own pets, Augustine. They’re being hunted down in the woods by my men as we speak.’

  ‘Yes, they are,’ Augustine replied. ‘And providing an adequate diversion while you and I stand here, having our little talk. There is some worth in that, don’t you think?’

  ‘I assure you,’ said Quentin. ‘Their deaths will be painful ones.’

  Augustine chuckled. ‘Well, truth be told, I’ll be glad to be rid of them. They were a gift, you see,’ he continued, and I heard something change in his voice – a mixture of displeasure and pride. ‘Part of my bargain with the High Council long ago. Those shadow creatures served their purpose for a time, but when something outlives its usefulness, it’s time to move on to other things.’

  I felt him studying me, though my eyelids were still too heavy to lift. Goosebumps skittered up my frozen arms.

  ‘Then move on with it,’ Quentin snapped. ‘I kept the Marksmen from killing your creatures for months. I’ve allowed you freedom to do as you please, going so far as to protect you from the Corsi clan when you tried to take
this gargoyle the first time. I even agreed to keep your presence in Sixes hidden from Nicolas. But I’ve grown tired of waiting, and my patience wears thin.’

  ‘Your patience!’ Augustine’s voice turned malicious. ‘How dare you talk to me that way, Marksman. You forget who I am.’

  ‘Nicolas is still the bandoleer.’

  The air crackled with black emotion.

  ‘For now,’ Augustine said gratingly. ‘But that injustice will soon be rectified. When that happens, you will have the chance to reap the benefits. Isn’t it why we’re working together in the first place?’

  Quentin’s scent singed my nostrils. I felt his hand grab my shirt, and he yanked me forward.

  ‘But why keep this one alive?’ he demanded, rattling my unresponsive body against the chains until I could hardly breathe. ‘What’s so different about him?’

  ‘My gargoyles provided useful subjects,’ Augustine replied. ‘But we’d reached the limits of our experiments. Now, with Karl’s books, the missing pieces are falling into place.’ I felt his cold eyes on me. ‘As for Sebastian Grey’s importance, that’s my own business.’

  Quentin jerked me once then released me. ‘Fine. We’ll play things your way. So what happens now?’

  ‘Tensions are heated already,’ Augustine said. ‘We need only fuel the flames.’

  ‘And just how do you propose to do that?’

  Metal clanked, and there was pressure against my wrists. The manacles fell to the floor with a heavy thump. Fingers curled around my wrist, and Augustine lifted my arm, pulling it across my chest. He ground his thumb into my palm, and I felt my frozen fingers splay reflexively.

  ‘Like this,’ Augustine replied.

  My arm was slung forcibly through the air, and I felt my claws connect with skin. Quentin cursed in fury. I heard him stumble back.

  ‘What did you do!’ he bellowed.

  My arm dropped limply to my side.

  ‘Just making things look convincing, Quentin,’ said Augustine.

  ‘You slashed my face!’ the Marksman spat.

  ‘It had to look real,’ Augustine replied smugly. ‘And I’ll admit, the amount of blood running down your cheek is quite impressive.’

  Quentin spat again. ‘You’ll pay for that.’

  ‘I’m doing you a favor, Marks. As you said, Nicolas wouldn’t approve of your treatment of the shadow creature. That is, unless the gargoyle viscously attacked the head of his Marksmen and therefore needed to be locked away from the rest of the camp. From everyone in the camp.’

  I knew exactly what Augustine meant.

  And so did Quentin.

  The Marksman paused for a moment – probably wiping his face. ‘So how does this benefit you, Augustine?’

  ‘Actually, it all works out beautifully,’ he replied. ‘Not only will this situation aid to usher in my return, but it also provides me with the perfect opportunity to put my newfound shadowen knowledge to work.’ Augustine’s breath was hot against my ear. ‘You see, Sebastian, I knew you would serve me eventually, in one way … or the other.’ His words hung in the air, and I felt a dread – far deeper and colder than my paralysis – seep into my bones. ‘Because by the time I’m finished with you, Mr Grey, you’ll be all the proof I need to sway the High Council to my side.’

  ‘And after that?’ Quentin demanded.

  ‘Then the Marks can deal with the shadowen in whatever way they see fit.’

  A silence of mutual agreement fell between the two men as I hung lifelessly between them. After a few moments, Augustine clapped his hands.

  ‘Now, I believe you have an appointment with the Romany family, Quentin. Those gashes will stop bleeding eventually. And do make sure to give a convincing performance. In the meantime, with your permission, I’ll escort the gargoyle to his new confinement.’

  ‘Very well,’ Quentin replied. He gave a sharp whistle and the tent flap snapped back. I heard two men hurrying in our direction. ‘Thomas and Ian will assist you.’

  ‘Give me an hour,’ Augustine said. ‘Then you can bring the family. You know where we’ll be.’

  ‘Understood.’

  Quentin’s scent grew fainter until it disappeared completely.

  ‘Unchain him,’ ordered Augustine. The Marksmen yanked my arms until they threatened to snap. Then I was falling, unable to do anything about it. I hit the ground with a thud. Augustine knelt beside me. He grabbed me roughly across the neck and I felt his cruel smile like the heat of the midday sun. ‘After all this time, it seems it’s finally come to this. You no longer have to concern yourself with a charge, Sebastian Grey. Now, you’re going to have a master.’

  ‘God, this kid’s heavier than he looks,’ muttered one of the Marksmen.

  ‘He’s a freaking gargoyle, Thomas,’ the other huffed. ‘What’d you think he’d weigh?’

  I was aware that I was being carried through the tent by Quentin’s men, but it felt like I was in a coma. I heard the canvas flap being shoved aside, and then we were outside. The scents of the night were heavy in my nose and helped clear my head.

  My journey abruptly ended when I was unceremoniously lobbed through the air, and I landed in a pile of something stiff and prickly. It was hay – but not the fresh, sweet-smelling kind. It was old and reeked of damp and mildew. Hinges squeaked; a heavy door clanged closed, and I was left alone.

  For a long time, I lay unmoving in the stench, trying to get my bearings. I was still outside, but far away from any activity I could hear or smell. The two Marksmen who’d carried me to my new location were nearby – guarding me, I assumed. The rotting hay made my nose burn, and the occasional breeze wasn’t enough to provide any relief.

  My mind drifted to Josephine. My lips still burned from her kiss, and it seeped through my skin like a dull ache. My heart beat her name inside my cold motionless prison until a fire smoldered in my chest. It burned through me like hot coals. Then, with a burst of strength, I opened my eyes.

  Hay was piled in clumps over a slatted wooden floor. Rusty iron bars surrounded me. I rolled my eyes upward. A metal ceiling stretched overhead – so low that I wouldn’t be able to stand upright. The heat inside me boiled into anger. I was in a cage – a disgusting, smelly animal cage in the back lot of the Fairgrounds.

  I groaned and rolled over, forcing my body to work through the lingering vitamin D in my blood. I shook my head groggily until my vision cleared. The chains were gone, but the metal bands with their diamond spikes remained in place, digging into my skin. My wings were still pinned behind my back. I took a deep breath of night air and pushed myself onto all fours.

  ‘Finally,’ said a voice outside the cage. Augustine leaned against the bars. He smirked when our eyes met. ‘I was beginning to think I’d given Quentin too high a dosage in that syringe. I’m still learning, so I pray you’ll forgive any errors that I make during our time together.’

  ‘If you wanted … a date with me … you should have just asked.’ My throat was scratchy and raw. ‘No need for all the … ceremony.’

  Augustine’s black eyes glinted with malicious amusement. ‘I like your resilience, Sebastian. You’re much stronger than the others.’

  A growl rumbled my vocal chords. ‘Guess that means I’ll be that much more annoying when I fight back.’

  Augustine narrowed his eyes, and the white scar on his face bulged. He studied me closely, measuring me up. I shifted into a crouch, steadying myself by grinding my claws into the rotting wooden slats. The Gypsy adjusted something along his shoulder: the strap to a leather satchel hanging at his hip. He saw my look and patted the bag.

  ‘Karl’s books,’ he remarked. ‘I’m so glad he finally brought them out of hiding. They make excellent reading while one is waiting to make his first appearance before the Romany family.’

  ‘How did you—?’

  ‘Easy enough,’ he said, cutting me off. ‘When you work with the right people.’

  ‘You didn’t have to kill him. He was a good man.’

&
nbsp; ‘Yes, he was. But he was also a necessary casualty. Many who have attempted to keep secret the books of the Sobrasi have met the same fate, including his own grandfather. You must admit, though, Karl was a perfect victim. After all, Sebastian, if you’d kill someone like Karl, then you’d kill anyone to get what you want.’

  I crawled to the edge of the enclosure. ‘And what is it that I want?’

  ‘You want what all shadowen want,’ he answered. ‘The death of the Roma.’

  ‘You know that’s not true.’

  ‘We all change, Sebastian. Given the right circumstances.’

  Chills ran down my spine, but I kept my face expressionless. ‘Then, for the sake of argument, suppose I do. You’re a Gypsy. If the shadowen want your people dead, that includes you.’

  Augustine tilted his head. ‘Not if I’m the one in control.’

  ‘In control of what?

  ‘Not what, Sebastian. Who.’ He rummaged through the satchel and took out a small velvet pouch. ‘I’m your new master now.’

  ‘We’ve played this game before. It didn’t work last time. You think throwing me in a cage is going make things different?’

  ‘Consider this a new game, only the rules have changed.’ Augustine smiled – a slow, slithering smile. ‘Tell me, Sebastian. Did Karl ever tell you the legend of La Gargouille?’ His brows lifted. ‘I can see by your face that he didn’t. I’m sure that it would’ve come up eventually, but since you two won’t be having any more conversations, I’ll fill in the blanks.’ He juggled the velvet pouch between his hands, caressing the fabric like it was priceless. ‘It’s the creation story of your kind, Sebastian – an old tale of a French priest whose homeland was plagued by a terrible winged monster who breathed fire and water. The priest defeated La Gargouille, and its head was mounted on the village cathedral to ward off future evil spirits.’