Touch of Shadow (The Shadow Sorceress Book 5)

by Bilinda Sheehan

  "Jason," I said, in as placating a tone as I could muster. He switched his grip on the hilt faster than my eyes could follow. When he pressed the sharp tip against my throat, it took all of my strength not to gulp back my fear. I went still, as still as the bodies that lay in the ground beneath me.

  "Are you not afraid?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes unreadable as he studied me the way an entomologist might study a bug they found fascinating.

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Bitterness coating each of my words. "Sorry to disappoint you. I'm not in the habit of giving psychopaths what they want." I sounded far braver than I felt, but the flicker of annoyance that crossed Jason's face was more than worth it.

  "Always so stubborn, even when someone is trying to help you," he said. My body stiffened as he increased the pressure of the ornate blade against my neck, just enough for the tip to pierce my skin. My heart beat so frantically in my chest that it was hard to take in enough air and my lungs screamed with the extra effort.

  Jason pulled the blade away, and the blood he had drawn, my blood, trickled down across the steel, causing the runes to flare to life. He held the knife so the blood seeped all the way to the hilt and then he raised it once more.

  My body screamed at me to move, to do something, anything, but the rope he'd used to bind my hands held fast despite my struggles. With no choice left, I reached for my magic, but it was sluggish, and every time I thought I had it, it slipped away, burrowing deeper into my core.

  Jason brought the blade down in an arc and I shrank back against the stone cross but the knife never touched me.

  Jason's eyes held mine as he plunged the blade into his own chest. He dropped to his knees in the grass next me, and despite the pain I could see filling his gaze, he never took his eyes from my face. He drew in a deep breath and his skin grew ashen.

  I fought the ropes holding me until my wrists were raw with the effort. "What the hell did you do? Jason, what have you done?"

  I felt the stirrings of power—an unfamiliar type of magic that caressed my skin like a lover’s touch. It called to the darkness inside me, the darkness I didn't even know I had, tightening things low in my body. I wanted to touch him; the overwhelming urge to reach out and lace my fingers through his, to trace the outline of his mouth with my tongue and taste the sweet agony that rode him, washed over me in a wave that had goosebumps erupting across my skin. My breath came in small, panting gasps that left me lightheaded.

  "Oh, God, Jason, what have you done?" Asking him the question again was redundant but they were the only words I could manage before another wave of power stole all thought from my mind.

  "Amber, call her—call Tess," Jason said, his words clipped.

  It took me a few seconds to realise what he was asking but my mind and body felt fragmented. I didn't want to call Tess. I wanted to give in to the darkness, to escape the ropes binding me and taste the sweet ecstasy of death that Jason's ritual had conjured.

  "Please, Amber, call her," he said, before a spasm doubled him over and he began to cough. When he looked at me again, there was blood flecked on his lips. It was the shock I needed, and I crushed the urges his power evoked in me down beneath my need to save him.

  Closing my eyes, I imagined Tess, her spirit whole and complete. Something stirred at the edges of my power and when I opened my eyes again, Tess stood at the opposite side of the cemetery. Despite the distance between us, her confusion screamed at me, and between one breath and the next she was gone.

  "She was here, but she's gone now," I said, shuffling toward Jason, the position he'd sat me in hampering my progress.

  He nodded and that effort alone seemed to take what little strength he had left away and he collapsed onto his side on the grass. The rope binding my hands loosened and fell away, leaving me free to move once more.

  Crawling over to his side, I pushed him onto his back and wrapped my fingers around the hilt of the knife. Jason's power sparked to life, marching across my skin like an army of ants. It bit at me as it sought the truth of what I was. Despite the pain, I didn't let go; instead, I tugged upwards and pulled the blade from where he had lodged it in his chest.

  The second it was free I let it fall from my grip, the creeping pain dissipating as soon as I released it. He lay unmoving on his back and I pressed my hand over the wound. His skin was pale and drawn but he looked young, and without thinking about what I was doing, I brushed my fingers against his cheek with my other hand.

  "Jason," I whispered, leaning over him.

  He didn't move, his body utterly still, and it unnerved me. Through the hand I had placed over his wound, I could feel his heart beating, so why wasn't he waking up? His blood was sticky and warm against my hand but I couldn't feel the pull of his magic any more. Panic flooded my veins. He was a witch hunter—his magic was as much a part of him as mine was of me and to simply not feel it anymore, well, couldn't mean anything good.

  "Jason, you have to wake up," I said, cupping his cheek gently.

  He was a pain in the ass, there was no denying that, but he was the only connection I had left to Nick and I had already lost so much, I wasn't prepared to lose him, too. I could feel my tears welling up and I squeezed my eyes shut tight to stop them from falling.

  "I never thought you would cry for me," Jason said, his voice barely a whisper.

  My eyes sprang open and I stared down at him as he lifted his hand and covered mine. I didn't move, didn't even breathe as he turned his face into my touch, his lips a featherlight brush against my skin.

  "What are you doing?" I asked, my words strangled by the emotional turmoil that raged within me. I was a shadow sorceress, and he was a witch hunter—not just any witch hunter, but a Saga Venatione. If he knew what I was, he would kill me, and yet here I was, revelling in the warmth of his touch. Of course, if I was honest with myself, the confused feelings I appeared to have for Jason were just a nasty side-effect of his power. It was said that many of the shadow sorcerers had fallen for those who hunted them and vice versa.

  Reluctantly, I dragged my hand from his grip and sat back on my heels. He smiled up at me; the heat in his gaze and what it promised sent shivers of anticipation through my core. With a shake of my head, I sucked in a deep breath and fought to find my equilibrium once more. I had enough problems. The last thing I needed to do was add Jason to the list.

  "You better have a damn good explanation," I said, scrubbing my bloodied hands against my dark jeans. At least I'd done something right when I'd bought up every pair of black and indigo jeans I could find in King City. Black was best for hiding bloodstains, but Indigo was a close second.

  "You needed access to your ghost and I gave it to you. I'd have thought that was pretty obvious," he said, the heat slowly fading from his gaze. It was quickly replaced with the irritation I had come to know Jason for.

  "And you didn't think to just tell me what you were going to do? You had to make me think you were going to...." I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. I’d thought he was going to kill me, that he knew the truth and had chosen to end me while I cowered in front of him on my knees. That thought alone was enough to cause a cold sweat to break out across my skin.

  "I needed your fear to be real, but of course, I should have known better—that you wouldn't feel fear the way everyone else does," he said, rubbing his hand across his chest. He winced and pushed up slowly onto his feet.

  "I don't understand," I said, staring up at him.

  "The ritual demands true fear, but when you thought I was simply going to kill you, it wasn't fear the blade detected, it was defiance. The whole thing very nearly didn't work because of your stubborn ass."

  "If all it demanded was true fear then why the hell did you stab yourself?" I followed suit, and once I was back on my feet, I stared into his face, searching for any sign of deceit.

  Jason winked at me and I curled my hands into fists at my sides. The urge to wipe the smug expression from his face with a well-p
laced punch was overwhelming, but I refrained; he'd see it coming anyway, and the last time I'd sparred with him, he'd left me feeling as though I'd been run through a cement mixer.

  "That part, I can't explain. It’s all to do with the power, the blade protects me from really getting hurt, so it is a cheat. But other than that…” He shrugged. “Suffice to say it hurts like hell," he said, with a grin that lit up his face and reminded me of just how young he'd looked when he was lying on the grass. "So, did it work?" He scooped up the rune covered blade I'd discarded on the ground.

  "Well I saw her. How is it possible, if her soul was destroyed?"

  Jason shrugged. "You ask way too many questions.”

  "How else am I going to learn?"

  He levelled a serious expression in my direction. "There are some things you don't need to learn," he said. Of course he would say that; he didn't know what I truly was. But it was because of what I was that I needed to know, more than I could explain to him.

  "She appeared to me but I didn't get to communicate with her," I said.

  "Not yet—give her time and she'll come to you. The spell simply releases the spirit from whatever is holding it hostage.”

  "Jason, why are you helping me?" I asked.

  He looked away, his shoulder's tensing, and I could practically see the cogs in his head turning as I struggled to come up with a suitable answer.

  Finally, he shrugged and turned his gaze back to me. "I can't explain it. I know I shouldn't, but I find myself wanting to be near you, wanting to help you...." He trailed off and sucked in a deep breath. "I know how Nic felt about you and that what I feel is beyond wrong. I don't expect you to understand—hell, I don't understand, myself. The training I went through should have been enough to kill off the kinds of emotions I find myself feeling when I'm around you."

  "What kinds of emotions?" I said, my voice little more than a whisper. This was exactly the kind of thing I'd told myself I didn't want. I was a shadow sorcerer and he was a witch hunter; it was simply the magic that coursed in our veins that made me want to touch his skin when I was near him.

  "The kinds that make me do things like this," he said. He moved faster than my emotionally-addled brain could follow. His hands slid around my waist as he crushed my body to his chest and his lips found mine. The kiss stole the air in my lungs and reduced my legs to jelly. I clung to him as he kissed me with a ferocity I hadn't thought was possible.

  A memory of Nic popped into my head, his bright and open smile. His laugh. The feel of his body against mine, skin on skin as we made love, and the way he'd looked into my eyes, his expression dark and hungry, a possessiveness that told me I was his and, equally, he was mine....

  Ramming my hands against Jason's chest, I pushed with all my might, but it only forced him back enough that he could look down at me. His gaze was hungry and demanding and, physically, it sent aching shivers of desire lancing through my core—but no matter how he looked at me, he wasn't Nic.

  "I can't do this," I said.

  Jason's grip reflexively tightened on me but I kept my hands planted firmly on his chest.

  "Why not? I want it, you want it, and we're both adults...."

  "It's Nic. I want Nic...."

  Jason released me as though I was on fire and I stumbled as my legs threatened to buckle beneath me.

  "He's gone—really and truly gone," he said, roughly sliding his hands back over his head. His hair had been short when he'd first arrived in King City, but he'd let it grow out, so much so that when he pushed his hands through it, it stood on end in different directions that had my hand itching to smooth it back into place.

  I resisted, but not before I bit the inside of my lip hard enough to draw blood.

  "You don't know that for certain. Nic is strong...." I trailed off when Jason looked at me with pity.

  "Strong only makes it harder. Strong means he will suffer over and over.... And the feelings he has for you—" Jason snorted. "Christ, the poor bastard. At least when I joined, I hadn't given my heart to anyone."

  "What does it matter?"

  Jason shook his head and turned back toward the exit to the cemetery. "Forget I said it. I'll drive you back to Elite," he said, refusing to meet my gaze.

  "No," I said, grabbing his arm. "Tell me what you mean. Why would his giving his heart to me make any difference?"

  "We're not allowed to have feelings for anyone. When you become a witch hunter, you give your heart to the order...." Jason stared at me meaningfully and it took me a few seconds to catch up with him.

  "When you say give your heart to them...." I shook my head. "You're lying—I felt your heart beat...."

  He nodded. "You felt the muscle, but my heart—the essence of what allows me to love, to feel—they take it, the whole nine-yards. It's a ritual. They keep it in a box back in Vatican City."

  "And Nic's heart?" The thought of either of them giving up their hearts was beyond creepy and the idea of it being kept in a box was beyond bizarre.

  "He gave all of it to you. When he went to them and asked to become a Saga Venatione, they confirmed it. There was nothing for him to give except...." Jason turned away.

  I grabbed his arm. "Except what Jason? What did Nic give?" My heart beat frantically in my chest, the urge to scream welling up in the back of my throat.

  "The knights of the order give their heart and their soul to it.... And I'm not just talking meta-physical shit here, Amber. This is the real deal. They take it all—the heart, the muscle, the soul—cutting it out and pouring back in the power."

  I took a small step back, the world tilting painfully around me. There had to be a mistake. Jason was lying or something.

  But he wasn't lying. The nifty little trick I'd picked up by spending time with the fae in Faerie told me that he was being brutally honest.

  "They gave him the power he wanted and enough time to find you and get you home safe. The deal was that he'd go back to them and become a true knight."

  Sound rushed in my ears. I'd known it was bad, known that he had become a Saga Venatione for me, but I'd never for a second imagined it was something like this. I'd honestly always believed he would come back to me.... I loved him.

  "You're wrong," I said, fat tears welling up in my eyes before trickling down over my cheeks.

  Jason gave me a pained expression and shook his head. "He did it to save you. He did it because he loved you."

  Something broke inside me, a void that opened inside and threatened to swallow everything I was.

  "I need to be alone now," I said, my voice oddly emotionless even to my own ears. Something had changed inside me; I was oddly detached, as though everything that was going on was happening to someone else, not to me.

  There was a moment of hesitation, a moment in which his expression shifted and I saw the truth in his gaze. The rune-covered blade Jason had picked up dropped onto the grass before his gaze went blank and he nodded without a word. Turning on his heel, he returned to the car and I waited until I heard the sound of the engine starting up. The car pulled away. And still, I felt as though I was watching everything unfold from far away.

  The noise of the car faded into the distance and it was then my power swelled inside the void that had been created within me. Throwing my head back, I screamed, power flooding through me as I let it flow through the void Jason's words had created inside me.

  It continued to build, the bright sunshine sky overhead darkening with storm clouds as the winds picked up. I felt the dead beneath my feet, their bodies desiccated by time and death.

  Someone grabbed my arm, snapping my attention away from the hundreds of bodies lying just a few feet below. Marcel's touch seared through my jacket and into my skin.

  "Shadow Mistress, you do not wish this. Come back to the light..." he said, his voice firm and hollow with the ring of power.

  "Bokor," I said, but with a voice that was no longer my own. "You know not what I want. Release me."

  "Amber," Victoria said,
her voice coming from the other side of me. Turning to face her was a mistake, and I realised it as soon as her fist connected with my jaw. Pain bloomed, flooding, and I felt my head snap backwards, my skull disconnecting from the column of my spine. There was a moment when I felt my body float, my vision a blaze of red, and then the darkness took me.

  11

  Coming to on the ground, the damp grass was slowly soaking through my clothes, but that wasn't what really bothered me. The pain in my head was particularly intense. I felt as though I'd been hit with a ten-ton truck, except I knew the truth of what had hit me and it was far, far scarier.

  Victoria crouched over me, her eyes changeling dark, but instead of the usual empty gaze she was so good at pulling, her eyes were filled with concern.

  "Don't move," she said, quietly.

  "Why not?" I asked, turning my head to glance over at Marcel crouched on the other side of me.

  "We both heard the snap—you shouldn't be able to move your head at all," Victoria said, sounding confused.

  "The power needed to go somewhere," Marcel said, talking over me as though I was still unconscious, “it must have gone to healing her.”

  Sinking my fingers into the grass, I pushed up until I was sitting. My neck felt stiff and painful, but my jaw was far worse. It honestly felt as though it was twice the size it should have been, but lifting my hand to my cheek reassured me it was, in fact, its normal size.

  I rolled my shoulders and my neck clicked painfully, bringing back the memory of my head severing from my spine when Victoria had punched me.

  "Tell me I dreamed the bit where you punched me hard enough to actually decapitate me," I said, swinging my attention back to Victoria, who shot me a sheepish smile.

  "You know I cannot lie, Amber," she said, giving me all the answer I truly needed. I hadn't imagined it. And yet, I was sitting on the grass, moving my head—albeit slowly, but I could feel my fingers and toes. As though I needed to reassure myself of the fact, I waggled my toes in my black boots.

  "What happened?" I asked, glancing up at the sky, which was blue once more. Before the world had been swallowed in red, I remembered the roiling black clouds and the smell of ozone as the lightning approached. I had called it, or more specifically, my power had called it.