Shadow Maker: Morrighan House Witches Book One

by Amir Lane

  Shadows buzzed over the sand. Dozens, not just Dieter’s four. An invisible chalk barrier made by Selima kept them from getting too close. But it didn’t stop him from hearing them. It didn’t stop him from seeing what his Shadows saw. He was better at keeping their thoughts—what they saw—from his own.

  A tight pain formed in Dieter’s chest. He’d been in one kind of a pain or another for months, but this was different. This was a hollow pain, the kind that came from a sudden emptiness just left of his heart. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes. His thin body shuddered.

  “Alistair is dead,” he whispered.

  His voice cracked, barely audible over the Shadows. It was the first thing he’d said in weeks.

  “What? How do you know?” Selima asked.

  “Shadows,” he said.

  At least, he had to assume it was Shadows. There was no other way he could know. He couldn’t say more than that. Even if there was more to be said, speaking was still exhausting.

  Selima pulled Dieter against him, resting her chin on top of his blond hair. She smelled like ink and paper.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Dieter buried his face in her shoulder. No matter how things had ended between them, he still missed the warmth of Alistair’s body, the depth of his voice, the roughness of his hands. He even missed Alistair talking about his powers. It felt wrong to mourn one person he loved while sitting between two other people he loved. If it wasn’t for Yasir and Selima, he would still be Shadow-less and catatonic. They had reattached his Shadows, had stayed up with him when he awoke screaming from nightmares. But he couldn’t stop himself from missing Alistair. The guilt wasn’t helping speed up his recovery. And he was recovering, if not slowly.

  “I want to go home,” he mumbled.

  “Do you think you’re ready?” Yasir asked.

  Dieter hesitated.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  Being so far away from everybody had been nice for a while. Escaping the questions, the hovering, the constant eyes watching his every movement had been nice for a while. He hadn’t been around anyone but the two Awliya on either side of him in months. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be around anyone else. He wasn’t sure he could be around anyone else. But now that he could mostly think through the Shadows, he missed Lindy and he missed Lenna and he even missed Ekkehardt.

  Dieter tried to imagine what it would be like to go back to the real world. To stop hiding from everything. To go back to school. Trying out for the track team again, finding another job, hitting the books. Pretending that the last few months had never happened.

  He could convince himself that he had just been sick with mono or something. That Alistair had just moved away. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  Yasir and Selima spoke around him, but the words were becoming difficult to focus on. Either the sounds weren’t registering properly, or half the words were in Arabic. Either one was possible. Most of the English they spoke was for his benefit. Dieter never minded the Arabic. He wasn’t entitled to know everything they said, even if it was about him, and he loved the way their tongues curled around the syllables. It was like music.

  The conversation served as background noise while Dieter let his eyes follow the hoard of Shadows on the beach. He could feel each of them beneath his skin. The four darkest ones still had the strongest pull. They were calmer now, quieter. They didn’t scream as much or try to hurt him anymore. It could have easily been the influence of Yasir and Selima’s magic clinging to the area. But it felt different this time. It felt normal. Like they belonged. He could breathe, even with the weight of them pressing against the back of his head.

  Dieter licked his lips. He hadn’t tried much in the way of magic lately. The itch was only becoming stronger with every passing day. But he was too afraid of hurting himself to do anything about it.

  Selima nudged Dieter until he looked over.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “How long… before I can do magic again?”

  “That really depends on you, habib. It’s nothing to rush into. When you feel ready, you will know.”

  Dieter picked at the skin on his hand and kept staring out at the Shadows. He wasn’t sure if he was ready. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for anything. For magic, for going home, for being around people. But he had to do something. He felt like he hadn’t done anything, magic or otherwise, since his confrontation with Alistair. Granted, he hadn’t been ableto do anything. But that was really beside the point.

  The itch couldn’t be ignored.

  A hand, either Yasir or Selima’s, moved up Dieter’s spine. It was warm, comforting. Sitting between two powerful witches, using the power beneath his skin didn’t seem as daunting. They’d put him back together before, surely they could do it again. Dieter spread his fingers, feeling the electric warmth running through his veins. He reached out toward the Shadows and watched them gather around where his hand was pointed.

  “What are you doing?” Selima asked, a curious lilt to her voice.

  Dieter shrugged. Really, he had no idea what he was doing. But he knew what he saw, and he knew what he felt. And what he felt was control. Real control. Not the imaginary kind he was always telling himself he had. As he moved his hand through the air, the Shadows followed the motion.

  “Look,” he murmured.

  “I take it you feel ready,” Yasir said.

  Dieter clenched his fist. One by one, the Shadows faded out of sight until only four were left. His four. They hissed, buzzing against the barrier. But they couldn’t get through.

  “Shut up,” Dieter mumbled.

  And the Shadows did. They let out a single scream of protest, then fell silent.

  “Are you okay?” Selima asked.

  Her fingers ran through Dieter’s hair. He could hear the concern in her voice and he didn’t blame her. He was shaking, a wave of exhaustion weighing his body down. He leant back into Yasir. A small smile played at the corners of his lips.

  “Yeah,” he said, “I’m okay.”

  A LIGHT breeze mused Dieter’s hair. He tucked his hands into his jacket pocket and let out a soft sigh. There were a lot of things he’d expected to feel at his father’s funeral, but all he felt was numb. It felt wrong to lose his second parent at thirty, but Ekkehardt had been in his mid-thirties when their mother had gotten pregnant. The combination of stress and more stress was more than his heart could take. And while Ekkehardt hadn’t been a great father, he had always done what he thought he had to. At least, that was Dieter believed. Lindy never agreed.

  From the corners of his eyes, he could see Lindy approaching. The Shadows moved to make space for her and her guide dog. Her white cane tapped the headstone, and she stopped.

  “Lie down,” she said.

  “Are you talking to me, or Dragon?” Dieter asked.

  The black lab laid down. He looked up at the mention of his name but otherwise didn’t respond. He was very well trained, even guiding her when she would accidentally fall into a trance. A small khamsa attached to his collar kept the Shadows from bothering him. Aside from the occasional twitch of his ears, he didn’t acknowledge their existence.

  “You know, I wasn’t actually expecting you to show up,” Dieter said.

  “Do you really think I hated him that much? He sucked like you wouldn’t believe, but he was still our dad. And, believe it or not, I think he probably loved us at least a little.”

  She pinched her fingers together to show how little.

  “Fair enough. Uhm… Are you aware that you wore a bright blue dress to our dad’s funeral?”

  If he could hear the whispers of disrespect and pity, he was sure she did too.

  “You know he hated me in black. This is me being respectful.”

  Dieter couldn’t help but smile. She was right. Ekkehardt never could stand the way she dressed. Even if everyone seemed to think she did it either because she had gone blind or because she hated Ekkehardt, it
was actually one of the sweetest things she could have done. Ekkehardt would have been thrilled.

  “I think I’m actually going to miss him,” Dieter said.

  “You know what? I think I am, too. Not much, but still.”

  Dieter wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “We’re going to be okay,” he told her.

  “I know we are.”

  They accepted condolences from people they pretended to remember despite having met them all of once over twenty years ago. Dieter was getting tired of hearing the same words over and over again. They came to Ekkehardt’s lawyer, a short, balding man who drowned in his suit.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Harshal said, and Dieter almost cringed. “I know this probably isn’t the best time, but there’s something I need to discuss with you later.”

  Dieter frowned.

  “Isn’t that why we’re meeting with you later?” Lindy asked. “To discuss his estate and crap?”

  “Lindy, don’t say ‘crap’ at a funeral,” Dieter whispered.

  Harshal cleared his throat.

  “His estate and… other matters. It isn’t important right now. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “NOW, I don’t know if Ekkehardt ever mentioned it to you,” Harshal said from behind his desk, “but he was head of this city’s Mohr’s Circle. You know, our regulating group.”

  The twins nodded. While they’d both known about the existence of Mohr’s Circle—Lindy longer than Dieter—the news that Ekkehardt was in charge had only come up years later when Yasir let it slip in passing.

  “With him gone, a replacement needs to be found. Traditionally, the most powerful witch in the community leads the chapter. Necromancers, as a general rule, are at the top of the food chain.” Harshal laced his fingers together and pointed at Dieter with both indexes. “And Dietelinde—”

  “Lindy.”

  “Of course, Lindy. Lindy is the most powerful Seer around. That puts you both at the top of the list of successors. Technically, Dieter is first and Lindy, you’re second. Necromancers tend to trump… well, everyone.”

  “Either way, I’m out,” Lindy said. “I have enough to do without running some witch gang. I have a dog to take care of.”

  Dragon lifted his head from the floor with a soft sound.

  “The dog takes care of you,” Dieter pointed out.

  Lindy waved her hand dismissively.

  “Anyway… Dieter, it’s up to you. Now, I don’t need an answer right now. Take all the time you need. The Awliya will keep things running in the meantime.”

  Harshal cleared his throat again and shuffled through the papers on his desk. There was a lot to go through. Ekkehardt had arranged most of his affairs quite well, but there were still some small loose ends to take care of.

  Dieter didn’t say anything on the drive home. As much as Dieter wanted to put Mohr’s Circle out of his mind, it persisted. He wasn’t in any state to think about anything like that. He’d been on autopilot since he’d heard of his father’s death. Neither Yasir nor Selima seemed to mind. They gave him the space he needed, even dealing with the Shadows for him.

  He didn’t mention Mohr’s Circle to them, though. It was too much right now. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed with them for a few hours. He could hear them moving around in the bedroom as he finished brushing his teeth. He spat toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his mouth. When he lifted his head, he caught the reflection of a Shadow behind him. One that had gotten past the seals. It stayed for only a few seconds before fading out.

  Dieter scratched at the scar that ran down his cheek and thought of Alistair Cudmore for the first time in eight years.

  AMIR LANE is a supernatural and urban fantasy writer from Northern Ontario. Engineer by trade, they spend most of their writing time in a small home office on the cargo pants of desks (it has 9 drawers) or in front of the TV watching every cop procedural or cooking competition on Netflix. They live in a world where magic is an every day occurrence, and they strive to bring that world to paper. Their short story, Scrap Metal and Circuitry, was published by Indestructible magazine in April 2016.

  When not trying to figure out what kind of day job an incubus would have or what a Necromancer would go to school for, Amir enjoys visiting the nearest Dairy Queen, getting killed in video games, absorbing the contents of comic books, and freaking out over how fluffy the neighbour's dog is.

  IF YOU enjoyed reading Shadow Maker as I enjoyed writing it, consider rating and/or leaving a review on Amazon.

  Interested in keeping up to date with my work? Check out my website for a running commentary on my writing, whatever I'm watching on TV, and tea recommendations.

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  There are so many people who made this book possible, I don’t even know where to start. It’s been a fantastic journey and I couldn’t have done it without all the support I received.

  Major thanks go to my beta readers who gave me feedback that made this book worth reading. I never could have done this on my own. The suggestions I got were invaluable and I can’t thank you enough.

  Thank you to Kendra Moll for being literally the fastest proofreader in the world and catching everything my tiny chipmunk brain missed. Four for you.

  Special thanks to Amber Dalcourt, graphics designer at EvilInk.com, for steering me in the right direction and giving me some invaluable advice. I don’t know what I’d be doing if you didn’t have my back.

  To my friends, who I’m sure are sick of listening to me talk about this, thanks for putting up with me. In general, not just about this. Seriously. Courtney, I know you’re probably never going to read this, but I could not have asked for a better lab and design partner. Nobody else would have put up with my issue with numbers (and pretty much everything else) the way you did. You are a tiny goddess.

  Shout-out to the creator(s) of Jotterpad. I wrote almost the entire first draft of this with it. This book probably might not have even been written if I hadn’t found such a perfect writing app. It made my life about ten thousand times easier.

  Important thank you for my brain for doing most of the work. Don’t let anyone call you dumb.

  And last but not least, to you for deciding to pick this book up, literally or figuratively, and reading to the end. This book is for you and I’m glad you stuck it out to the end.