Touch of Shadow (The Shadow Sorceress Book 5)

by Bilinda Sheehan

  Popping the lid on the jar, I lifted it above my head. "Time to go home, Kalfu," I said, the words leaving my mouth as quickly as they entered my head, and I couldn't help but think something else was guiding my mouth.

  The mist crossed the churning ground and flowed into the jar. As soon as the last of it slipped inside, I jammed the lid back on and held it tight.

  "I'll take that," Baron Samedi said, appearing in front of me. I hadn't heard him approach and I stared at the broken ground and then at him. But he was one of the loa; a little gateway to Hell wasn't going to stop him going wherever he damn well pleased.

  "Gran Ibo asked me to bring it to her," I said.

  Baron Samedi grinned at me, the shining white skull causing my skin to tighten with goose bumps. "She said to give you this," he said, holding a coin out toward me.

  Hesitating, I stared up into his face and continued to hold onto the jar. "What is it?"

  "She said you were a quick one. Smart is good, keeps you alive. The smarter the woman, the better she is between the sheets. Lord, the things a smart woman is open to," he said, his laughter coarse. It cut off abruptly. "Take heed—the coin is good for one newly-crossed soul. One and done, so use it wise and be sure not to waste it...."

  As quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone, and the jar that I'd been gripping so hard my fingers had turned white was replaced with the coin he'd held out to me. The sound of Jasper's sobs filled the air.

  "Come back, please come back..." he pleaded to the empty air as he fought with the pieces of the broken knife on the ground.

  I scrambled over the broken earth, the faint rumblings from below turning my blood to ice as it dawned on me just what I was listening to. Hell had always seemed like something abstract, something far away, and yet, with the scent of sulphur wafting up to my nose from the pit, it was practically within touching distance.

  I reached Marcel's body and found Widelene's body, too, in his arms, the two of them holding onto one another, their chests still. Brushing my fingers against Marcel's neck, I searched for a pulse, but felt nothing but the rapid cooling of his skin.

  "He's dead?" Heddou asked, the sudden sound of his voice in the night making me jump.

  "Made a deal with the Baron," I said, without turning around.

  "What do we do with this one?" Heddou asked, and I knew without needing to look that he was talking about Jasper.

  "You can help me get him back," Jasper pleaded, the high, nasally whine of his voice filled me with loathing.

  Climbing to my feet, I turned on Jasper.

  He grabbed my hand. "Please, I'm nothing without him," he said.

  His face still held the mottled grey colour of the dead, but I could feel the pulse in his hand and knew he wasn't actually dead. A side-effect of the magic he'd been messing with, and one I hoped he wouldn't recover from.

  "Please, bring him back!" His voice rose into hysteria, and without a word, I drew back my fist and punched him square in the face.

  "That one was for Tess," I said as Jasper reeled backwards on his knees, dark, sluggish blood dripping from his nose. "And this is for Marcel," I said, punching him again, pain reverberating up through my fist and into my arm as Jasper's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped into the dirt.

  "Well played," Heddou said approvingly as he watched Jasper twitch slowly on the ground. The clearing was suddenly flooded with Elite personnel in black tactical gear, their laser pointers sweeping over the area.

  I opened my mouth to reply to Heddou, but he was already gone.

  We were far from done with one another, but I could let it go this time; we both needed time to recover. How much time I would give him, well, that was another matter altogether.

  "Amber!" Nic's voice cut through the crackling of radios and the sounds of booted feet moving around the clearing.

  I moved toward him, my heart hammering in my chest as he swept me into his arms. When his mouth found mine, I kissed him back, but something nagged at the back of my mind. I loved him, yet there was still something not quite right about it all. He'd shared his soul with me, and his magic couldn't touch me because of it. These were things worth celebrating, but I placed my hands in the middle of his chest and pushed him back all the same.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "When you shared your soul with me…. What are the repercussions?"

  "Repercussions?" he asked, bewilderment filling his eyes.

  "Yeah, you know, the kind that comes with serious magic," I said.

  He hesitated. Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant, and there was a part of me that wanted to believe that it hadn't really been there at all, that I'd imagined it.

  "Honestly?" he asked.

  "Yes, honestly," I said, fear knotting my gut.

  "Honestly, there would be repercussions if the Saga Venatione ever discovered it. We're only supposed to share within the order and never to outsiders," he said, before adding, "Plus, because of who you are."

  "A shadow sorceress," I said.

  "Yeah. It stops me from doing my job, stops my power from seeing you as the enemy...."

  "And am I the enemy?"

  "You were never the enemy," he said, sounding so utterly sure that the knot I'd felt growing in my stomach loosened.

  I leaned my head against him and let out the breath I felt I'd been holding ever since he'd revealed to me what he'd done all those weeks before. "We can handle the Saga Venatione," I said, sounding surer of myself with every second that ticked by.

  Nic didn't answer me, but I took the tightening of his grip on my body as answer enough.

  "You're hurt," he said, finally drawing away to stare down into my face.

  "I'll be fine. I'll be going to the hospital anyway." The coin itched in the palm of my hand. Baron Samedi had said it was good for one soul, and I knew just the one I would use it on.

  "Why?"

  "Just something I've got to do," I said. I hadn't been able to save Widelene or Marcel, but wherever they were, I had a feeling they were happy together. But I'd failed Tess, and that wasn't something I was going to forget easily.

  I needed a win. We needed a win.

  "Have you seen Victoria?" I asked, and Nic nodded in the direction of the main cemetery.

  Victoria stood to one side, her arms folded across her chest. But it was her dark gaze that had the hairs on my neck standing to attention. She wasn't going to forgive or forget what I'd almost done to her. And I couldn't blame her, but it was something I could try to fix later. At least she was safe.

  "Come on, let's get you checked out," Nic said, looping his arm over my shoulders.

  "Sure," I said, allowing him to lead me away from the pit. For tonight, at least, it could be someone else’s problem.

  29

  Standing over Peter's bed, I sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out again. The doctors had convinced Karis to switch off the life support and the boy looked different without all the tubes and wires attached to him. The loa could sometimes be tricksters, and I definitely wasn't in the mood for trusting them after what Kalfu had done, but Baron Samedi had said himself that he kept his word, and I believed that.

  Placing the coin over Peter's heart, I closed my eyes. Baron Samedi hadn't said I needed any special words, and nothing came to mind, so instead, I remained in silence and waited.

  The demon mark on my shoulder flared to life and pain seared through my skin, spreading and pulsing in a way that had become intimately familiar to me. Opening my eyes, I saw Peter, saw the marks and lines of darkness that crisscrossed his pale skin. demon marks, marks that I'd missed when I'd met him the first time.

  Stumbling back from the bed, I watched the coin slowly sank through the thin skin of his chest. The dark lines faded, slowly at first, and then faster until there was nothing on his skin but the faintly rosy glow of a live child.

  His chest rose suddenly and the sound of air being sucked in through his mouth filled the room.


  Something slammed into the window and I turned in time to see Karis thrust open the door and collide into the room. She fell against the bed as Peter sat up and scrubbed his hand over his eyes.

  "Mom?" he said, his voice more than a little hoarse, as though it hadn't been used in a very long time.

  "Peter—oh, Christ, Peter!" she said, tears sliding down her face faster than she could get her words out. She clung to him, sobbing against the bewildered boy's chest.

  He turned his round frightened eyes to me. "Who are you?" he asked.

  "You don't remember me, Peter?" I asked.

  "No … where am I?"

  "What's the last thing you remember?"

  "Mom made spaghetti meatballs for dinner and then I went up to bed ’cause I wasn't feeling well," he said. "Mom, why are you crying? What's happening?"

  "Your mom is just really happy that you're all better, Peter. You were a little sick for a while, so she brought you to hospital, but all that's done now," I said as reassuringly as I could.

  I moved to tap Karis on the arm. There was something I needed to ask her.

  "Daddy!" Peter exclaimed, halting my movements as Robert Ellis skidded into the room and came to a jarring halt in the doorway. I watched as his legs gave out from beneath him and he slid wordlessly to the floor.

  "I'll give you all some time," I said, and I slipped from the room, watching the reunion through the window.

  How had I missed the signs of the demon? It just didn't make sense. Lifting my arm, I scratched at my own demon mark absentmindedly. The demon mark had protected the possessed priests from me, just as it had protected me from them, but this was different. My demon mark was visible for all to see, so why had Peter's been hidden so completely?

  Karis appeared in the doorway, her tear-filled gaze meeting mine before she flung her arms around my body and crushed me in a tight hug. "Thank you," she said.

  Unsure of what to say, I remained silent until she finally released me.

  "Peter says the last thing he remembers is you making spaghetti Bolognese—do you remember—"

  She cut me off with a nod of her head, and she clamped her hand across her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to erupt.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "That was nine months ago," she said. "I remember because it was the last sit-down meal we had together. After that, Peter changed, became violent and...." She trailed off.

  "And what?"

  "And the marks appeared," she said.

  "They're gone now," I said. Nine months since Peter's marks had appeared. Nine months since I'd started working for the Elite. I wasn’t a believer in coincidences, there was always a reason but in this situation, I had nothing to go on. Could I have been wrong about the existence of coincidence?

  "I need to call Graham and tell him the good news," she said.

  "I can do it," I said. "You go and spend time with your son, catch up on lost time."

  "Thank you again," she said before heading back into the room, her voice animated as she promised Peter the biggest bowl of ice-cream he'd ever had.

  Tugging my cell phone out, I dialled Graham's number but got his voicemail, informing me he was in the office and to leave a message that he could get back to.

  "You ready to go?" Nic asked, appearing behind me.

  "Any chance we can swing by the Elite offices first so I can tell Graham the good news, and give him a run-down of what went on with Jasper?" I asked.

  "Sure." Nic drew me closer. "As long as I can have you all to myself later.”

  "Then I'll be all yours," I said.

  Grabbing my arm, he pretended to drag me toward the exit doors, and I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. There had been a time when I hadn't believed we would ever be like this again. And now that I had him back, I wasn't going to waste the opportunity I'd been given. If the situation with Marcel and Widelene had proven anything to me, it was that life was too short to waste on worrying about what might have been.

  30

  Pushing open the door to the Elite offices, I made my way down through the aisles of desks toward Graham's office. The blinds were closed but I could see the light peeking out through the slats, telling me he was still working. Obviously, opening a gateway to Hell was a nightmare for paperwork. I didn't envy Graham his job.

  I turned the handle on the office door. It swung inwards and I stepped inside.

  "Graham, you think you could pick up the phone for a—" I cut off, my senses on alert as my eyes fell on the scattered paperwork on the floor. The usually well-ordered desk was a mess of paper and other items flung carelessly around.

  But that wasn't all.

  There was a faint metallic tang in the air and the familiarity of it all had the blood in my veins turning to ice.

  Graham's chair was turned away from me and I could just see his salt-and-pepper hair over the leather top.

  "Graham," I said, my voice little more than a squeak.

  Silence greeted me and I clenched my hands into fists as I took a step into the room. The carpet squelched beneath my boots and it was then my brain told me to run, that whatever was going on in the room was too horrible to contemplate. If I ran now, I wouldn't ever have to know the truth—I could wake up in the morning and it would all be nothing but a nightmare.

  "Graham," I said, again, this time panic giving an edge to my voice. "Graham, why won't you answer me?” I knew the answer, but my stupid pathetic brain still asked it just the same.

  I took another step forward, squelching each time my feet sank into the carpet. Every time I did, the movement seemed to kick up the metallic stink a little more.

  "Graham, please, just answer me," I said. Reaching the side of the desk, I tipped the side of his chair, causing it to spin around toward me.

  Graham's blue eyes were open, wide and staring, pain and terror mingled within what had once been blue eyes. But death didn't let you keep the colour. Now, they were greyed over with a pale film. His jaw was slack, his mouth hanging open, and there was something crammed down his throat. My eyes travelled lower to the ruined mess that had been his body.

  My brain gave up and I whirled away, only to come to a halt at the sight of the writing on the wall opposite Graham's desk. The blood glistened wetly in the harsh strip lighting.

  "You have only one father."

  <<<<>>>>

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  Also by Bilinda Sheehan

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  Grim Rites

  Wild Hunt

  Touch of Shadow

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  Banshee Blues

  Huntress Moon - Coming Soon

  Bond of Blood and Shadow Series

  Violet Line - Book One