Touch of Shadow (The Shadow Sorceress Book 5)

by Bilinda Sheehan

  "I don't want a history lesson! I want us to work together to stop this. You know I can help," I said, fighting to keep my voice even.

  Victoria stepped between us forcing us to take a step back, widening the gap until we were no longer in touching distance. "Look, we don't have time for this. We need to get in there before anyone else dies," she said, her words caused my anger to drain away.

  Before anyone else dies ... implying people had already died. Shit, that was all we needed. I was carrying enough guilt around to sink a battleship; the last thing I wanted to add to that guilt was the knowledge that innocent lives had been lost while I stood outside the cemetery gates, arguing with the expert pain in my ass.

  "Let me help," I said again to Marcel.

  He studied me for a moment and then nodded.

  "Good, now how the hell do I get in there without that magic screwing with me?" I forced a smile onto my face.

  Marcel reached into a pocket on the inside of his jacket. The sound of metal links shifting through his fingers had the tension in my shoulders sliding away, and when he pulled the chain free, I stared at him in surprise.

  He held the delicate chain out to me, the silver links glinting in the sunshine as the small silver disc at the end spun noiselessly in the air.

  "This will protect you from the magic," he said, and for a moment, I could have sworn there was a melancholy in his eyes, a sadness that hinted that whoever had owned the talisman before was now long gone. It was the kind of sadness that said whoever it had been was somebody he had loved greatly.

  As quickly as the look appeared on his face, it disappeared, leaving me with nothing but Marcel's usual blank, unreadable expression to contend with.

  I took the chain and slipped it over my neck. I couldn't feel any power from it, not even a flicker of what it was supposedly capable of. But I had a feeling he knew what he was talking about, and if he said this would protect me from the magic that was being performed within the cemetery, then I was going to believe him.

  I didn't wait for any further explanations. Turning on my heel, I moved back toward the gate and tentatively I reached for it. Just because I believed Marcel knew what he was talking about didn't mean that I had to rush in head first. I could still remember the suffocating feeling of the magic as it searched for something dead inside me.

  Grasping the railing, I prepared for the power to overwhelming me once more, but instead all I got was a gentle warmth that lapped softly against my skin. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was still enough to make me feel uncomfortable, and definitely enough to let me know that there was powerful magic being performed close by.

  "Thanks," I said, giving Marcel a grateful smile over my shoulder as I pushed open the gate.

  "I told you, you can't go in there without full tactical gear," Graham said. He was right, of course; the last thing I should have been doing was stepping into the cemetery with an unknown power on the loose and only my tactical vest to protect me physically.

  Someone or something cried out, a long, pitiful sound that seemed to reverberate around the space, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I knew I didn't have time to gear up.

  With a shrug, I gave Graham an apologetic smile. "I know this is going to be a veritable shit storm of paperwork, but I really got to get in there, Graham.”

  Victoria followed suit, slipping past the iron railings, careful not to let any part of the painted black iron bars touch her. It was one of the few things on Earth that could really do damage to someone like her. I'd already seen the slow healing-welts across the palms of her hands after she had used the iron bar on Tess.

  Marcel didn't wait for an invitation, either. I watched with interest as he stepped into the cemetery and onto its hallowed ground. There was a slight tremor in his hand as he shut the gate firmly behind him, but aside from that, there didn't seem to be any other signs that he was under duress due to the power that had been unleashed.

  I wasn't sure exactly what that meant. I knew he was powerful, but I wasn’t sure if he was powerful enough to overcome what was going on here. I had tasted his magic, but something told me he'd been holding back.

  "Amber," Graham called, drawing my attention from Marcel once more.

  I didn't say a word as I turned toward him. The look in his eyes was enough; he wanted to be in here, he wanted to be a part of the action, to make a difference, but this wasn't his job any more. Being the boss meant he was the one to give the orders, to send others into battle and watch from the sidelines. That had never been Graham's forte, and yet, now, he had no choice in the matter.

  "I'll be careful, Graham," I said, giving him a small smile.

  "I know you will," he said.

  Turning away from him once more, I followed the path Victoria had taken, which led deeper into the cemetery. She was already about twenty feet ahead of me, moving stealthily amongst the tombs and headstones. As I crested the hill, I felt bile rise up the back of my throat.

  Victoria was already past the first body when I came upon it. Its dirt-covered clothes and badly decomposing remains told me it had probably crawled from the open grave nearby. I hurried to catch up to her, but the sound of Marcel mumbling to himself in French slowed me down.

  "Do you know what this is all about?" I asked, catching Marcel's attention.

  He paused next to the body on the ground, crouching down beside it. From where I stood, I could just make out the stringy strands of dark hair and what I assumed had once been a blue dress.

  The angles of the limbs and the torn ruined flesh turned my stomach. There had been a time when this thing on the ground had been a woman. A flesh and blood, alive, breathing woman. She had obviously been dead for a few months by the state of decomposition, but considering she was dead, what the hell was she was doing out of her grave? It didn't make any sense.

  "Something woke them up," Marcel said, making the sign of the cross on the woman's forehead before he straightened up once more.

  "But what?" I didn't need to ask who; we already knew the answer to that. Marcel's expression was, once more, unreadable. Clenching my fists at my side, I tried to rein my anger in. We needed him, and if we were going to keep him, I needed to keep my temper in check.

  "I do not know, and that is an honest answer," he said. His sudden honesty surprised me, and all I could do in response was nod.

  "Hey, guys!" Victoria's shout came from just a few tombs ahead. I jerked my attention away from Marcel and back to the matter at hand. Picking up my pace, I sprinted through the headstones in the direction Victoria's voice had come from.

  Closing my hand around the gun on my weapons belt, I flicked the button open on the holster and tugged it free. The Glock wasn't heavy in my hand, and I wrapped my fingers around it, tightening my grip. I was so used to using it at this point that it had practically become an extension of me. I crept around the edge of the last tomb with the gun pointed toward the ground.

  Something nearby groaned and I rounded the wall of the tomb in time to see Victoria strike at a mottled grey hand that had grabbed at her ankle.

  It grabbed at her leg again, the fingers digging into the flesh of her calf, the calf that I could now see through her ripped jeans. She stabbed at the hand again with the obsidian knife she was carrying, cutting through the flesh like it was little more than butter.

  The creature cried out and the hairs stood on the back of my neck. It was then I saw its face. The thing peered up at her from the ground, still buried up to its neck in grave dirt. It continued to clutch and claw at her, and every time her blade bit home, a cry tore from its once-human mouth. It was then I realized that it wasn't really attacking her; it was trying to crawl out of the ground, and Victoria happened to be the nearest thing it could latch onto.

  Another one freed itself from the confines of the dirt just behind Victoria—a creature which had once been a man, suit now tattered. Drawing itself upright, it shuffled forward, toward Victoria.

  A voice from behind me shou
ted, "Sleep!"

  The corpses turned toward the voice, though it was more likely the power that threaded its way through the voice that they were actually turning toward, inescapably drawn to it. Ignoring Victoria, the zombie that had freed himself lumbered past her, in my direction.

  It wasn't me it was interested in; it was Marcel's voice, Marcel's command, and for some reason, it hadn't done anything but draw the creature on him.

  "Rest!" he shouted. The word held power—despite the talisman around my neck, I could feel it rattling my teeth and echoing in my bones, but it had seemed to have no effect on the dead thing shambling across the ground.

  The corpse reached me, it's eyes greyed over with the thick film of its death; the skin on this one had started to shrink back away from the mouth, giving it the grotesque appearance of a too-wide smile.

  "It's not working, Marcel!" I shouted. The corpse had drawn level with me, but it still wasn't interested in what I was doing, its dead gaze only for Marcel. Reaching out with my hand, I touched its shoulder and called forth a little of my magic. For a moment, my chest tightened and I could feel its agony. It didn't want to be here; it wanted only the rest it had been promised.

  "Rest," I said, pushing my magic into it. As though the strings that had been controlling it and keeping it upright had been cut, the corpse dropped to the ground, its body crumpling in on itself. Marcel's expression was priceless, and if the situation hadn't been so utterly serious, I might have found it somewhat funny.

  Turning my attention to the one at Victoria's feet, I wasn't surprised when I discovered the zombie's severed hand clinging to her leg while the main body continued to struggle against the dirt that held it in the ground.

  Victoria growled as the fingers of the corpse dug into her leg, drawing blood. I pushed my magic toward the struggling corpse and, without the word needing to leave my lips, the zombie's eyes rolled up in its head and it sank back down into the earth. The hand dropped harmlessly away and Victoria shuddered, the skin on her leg rolling as the gouge marks healed over seamlessly.

  "God, I wish I could do that," I said, watching in fascination.

  Victoria's eyes flashed as the true nature of her changeling self slid closer to the surface. "It's not pleasant," she said gruffly, before she blinked back the darkness that had pooled in her eyes.

  Something up ahead screamed, the sound utterly inhuman, and the ground shook beneath our feet. I didn't wait to find out if Victoria and Marcel were following me, trusting them to do their job while I did mine. I ran toward the grouping of mausoleums that sat at the centre of the cemetery, jumping some of the lower and broken headstones that littered the ground. Whatever had happened here before we'd arrived had caused immeasurable damage, and there was no way I'd want to be on the clean-up crew assigned to this one.

  The ground beneath my feet started to incline and the burn in the backs of my legs told me I needed to spend way more time working on my cardio in the gym. Hunting monsters wasn't the kind of job where you could afford to get out of breath. The idea of having to ask for a time-out from a shifter or vampire was beyond ludicrous. They already had all the advantages; being out of shape was akin to serving yourself up on a platter for them.

  Skidding into the centre of the cemetery, my feet continued to move forward, but the blast of power that spread out from where Heddou stood knocked me clear off my feet and sent my body spinning into the nearest mausoleum wall.

  My ears rang as silence crashed in around me. Lifting my head, I gingerly turned my neck to the side and caught sight of Marcel lying unconscious a few feet from where I sat half-propped against the cement wall of the tomb I'd crashed into.

  Something grabbed my hand and I jumped, swivelling my head. I found myself face to face with Victoria. A small trickle of blood crept from her nose but aside from being on her knees next to me, and the leather of her jacket being ripped at the shoulder, she looked unscathed.

  Her mouth moved and then it dawned on me. She was talking to me, but I couldn't hear her. My ears were still ringing and I tried to lift my already injured arm up toward my face but it refused to move, the strange angle it was in underneath my body telling me I was hurt far worse than I'd initially thought.

  Gripping Victoria's hand, I used her body as leverage and pulled myself upright, the world swimming around me before once more coming back into focus as my ears popped and the surrounding sounds came rushing back in, albeit more muffled than I was used to.

  "How badly are you hurt?" Victoria asked, her tone low and urgent.

  "I don't know, but it doesn't feel great," I said, cringing as I shifted against the cracked cement. Glancing up, I could make out the point of impact my body had made in the plaster of the tomb.

  Lifting my one working arm, I touched my ears and my fingers came away sticky. Bleeding from the ears was generally a pretty bad sign, but I was pretty sure, in my case, it had more to do with ruptured ear drums and not something infinitely more serious.

  "How is Marcel?" I asked, glancing over at his still form.

  "Unconscious, but he is breathing," she said.

  Pushing up, I cringed as my damaged arm refused to cooperate and I dropped forward onto my knees.

  "It's dislocated," Victoria said dispassionately, moving behind me before I could answer her.

  I tried to shift away from her grip, but her hold on my body was unmovable and I cried out as she jerked my arm up and shoved the shoulder joint back into place. The pain was intense, taking my breath with it, but I quickly discovered I could move it once more. Moving my fingers caused tiny sparks of pins and needles to dance up and down my arm, but movement was movement.

  "Thanks," I said, finally managing to drag a deep breath into my lungs. Victoria ignored me and crept forward in the direction the magical blast had come from.

  Scanning the scene ahead, I realised something. Heddou was gone. Or, at least, I couldn't see him. Following Victoria, I caught sight of Jasper.

  Despite never truly seeing him with my own eyes at Heddou's, and again at Tess's, I still recognised him. The flavour of his magic, the arrogant tilt of his head and the cruel twist of his lips as he muttered to himself and raised his arms high above his head.

  He was young, and that surprised me most of all, his sandy brown hair long enough that he had pulled it back in a ponytail; his skin a warm golden ochre that seemed to glow as he wove his magic around him like a net. His green eyes found mine, and his smile widened as recognition flashed across his face.

  "I'm so glad you could make it," he said, raising his voice to cover the distance between us.

  "You won't be glad in a minute," I threw back at him, pausing behind one of the nearest unbroken headstones.

  He laughed, a rich sound that churned my stomach. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face, to send him scurrying back into whatever hole he had crawled out of. He had a face that simply begged to be slapped, as my mother would have said.

  "Let me guess—you've come here to stop me?" he asked. "Don't you think that's a little cliché?"

  I shrugged, the pain in my shoulder causing me to suck a breath in through my teeth.

  Jasper sighed and shook his head. "You know, you're all the same … greedy with your magic. The second someone comes along to threaten that, you lose your shit," he said.

  "I don't care what magic you have, I care how you use it, and when you're killing innocents, I—"

  He cut me off. "Innocents? Wherever you got your information, it couldn't be more wrong," he said. "Nah-ah!" He turned suddenly and raised his hand, sending Victoria flying back through the air.

  She came down on a grouping of headstones, and the sound of her body impacting with the stone made me queasy. It wasn't enough to kill a changeling, but it would definitely hurt.

  The second his back was turned toward me, I called my magic forth, sending it into the ground at my feet. I imagined a barrier, almost like saran-wrap, sealing the dead in their graves where they belonged. Even if he tried to
raise them, they wouldn't be able to break through the barrier of magic I'd created—push against it, maybe, but not break it.

  Turning my attention to him, I let my power wrap around his. I could control the dead—I'd discovered that for the first time at Heddou's. It wasn't perfect, but my ability to sever his connection to the zombies he had created certainly meant I had some sort of sway over the dead. And if that were true, surely I would have some sway over Jasper through his power?

  He faced me, his expression a mix of irritation and curiosity. "I don't understand you, Amber," he said, drawing out my name as though he was tasting me through the sounds the letters made on his tongue. "Your magic feels wild, untamed even. There's no denying it … you're powerful..." he said, closing his eyes for a second.

  The look on his face and the way his magic suddenly thrust back against my own was enough to send a shudder of revulsion racing through me. And for a moment I was reminded of Fionn; the way he had touched me, the way he'd used his magic against me ... the violation of it all. The memory was enough to make me freeze, my breath caught in the back of my throat. I'd sworn I would never allow myself to feel like that again.

  Jasper's magic pushed against me once more, probing my shields, searching for a weakness.

  "But power is nothing without skill, and you are little more than an amateur ... and against me, you are nothing at all. If a king like Heddou couldn't stand against me, how can something as fragile as you hope to stop me?"

  My gaze drifted from Jasper to the body lying on the ground just a few feet from where he stood. It was half-buried in rubble and dirt, but from the glimpses of the bright red silk waistcoat I could see underneath the destruction, I knew it was Heddou. Was he dead?

  "Wakey, wakey, Amber," Jasper said, and it was then I realised his words were nothing more than a distraction. But it was a realisation I had a second too late.