Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel)

by Cynthia Luhrs

  Turning to the woman, to make sure she was OK, he wasn’t paying attention when he saw her point.

  “Look out!” She yelled, waving her arms.

  Spinning around, he was a moment too late as the blasted redheaded idiot stabbed him in the thigh. Colin fell to one knee, muscles starting to spasm as pain lanced through his leg, the sword clattering to the uneven, stone floor.

  The man stood over him to finish the deed, “Imagine, me killing the mighty Shadow Walker, Colin Campbell.”

  “Here, take it!” Heedless of her own safety, the woman had run into danger to hand him the blade he’d dropped. He was flabbergasted she would risk her life for him.

  Colin spun the dirk around, thrusting it through the arrogant bastard’s eye just in time to miss the sword aimed at his neck. Writhing on the ground, the pathetic excuse for a Day Walker raised his hands in a feeble attempt to fight back.

  Pulling the serrated knife out of the man’s eye, he stabbed the redhead, ripping his heart out. Like others of his kind, the man turned to gold dust and disappeared without a sound.

  Someone was screaming. My God, what a horrific sound. Make it stop. It took a moment for Emily to realize it wasn’t someone, it was her screaming and she couldn’t seem to stop, replaying the horror behind her eyes over and over.

  Tears streaming down her face, she didn’t know what had possessed her to hand the breath-taking man the wicked-looking knife. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she curled into a ball wishing she could disappear into the wall. Her body wasn’t listening to her brain; it was as if she was encased in cement.

  Run. She kept screaming at herself, but her feet weren’t listening.

  Legs buckling, Emily fell trying to stand. Managing to slide herself up the wall, she waited a moment to steady herself. Instead of running away like a normal, sane person, she moved to check on the injured Scot the other man had called Colin.

  Don’t let him kill me. This is where the ditzy girl in the horror movie makes a stupid mistake like going upstairs to check on the noise and gets killed instead of running away out the front door to safety. Don’t let me be that bimbo.

  There was blood everywhere. Drops were hitting the grey-colored stone, dripping down his injured arm, out of his sleeve to pool on the ground.

  Kneeling down, Emily realized he was enormous. He dwarfed her. Irrationally, she imagined his strong arms encircling her, holding and protecting her for all time.

  “Oh my goddness! Are you okay? Please tell me this is all staged for tourists, and it’s just really, really realistic-looking fake blood? I mean, I don’t know what a heart looks like but that looked real to me. The special effects must be awfully expensive. How does the gold dust work? Is there some kind of trap door in the floor?” The man looked up at Emily with the most beautiful clear green eyes she’d ever seen. She put a hand up to her chest, dizziness threatening to overcome her.

  “Lass, you’re babbling. Side effect of being in shock. You need to leave; others will be here soon, they’ll take you when they realize you can see us. I willna be able to protect you from them all,” Colin rasped. His accent sent a shiver through her, as his deep, melodic voice snaked down her spine.

  “What others? There’s no one else here. What are you talking about? Let me get help.” Emily started to rise but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. His hand was so big, easily encircling her arm, the calluses on his palm rough against her skin. No corporate-manicured, buffed hand on this one.

  “Wait, why did you risk yourself to assist me?” He was puzzled.

  Colin felt waves of fear rolling off the woman’s body. Not knowing why he wanted to calm her, he hesitantly reached out, tucking a stray strand that had worked itself loose from her prim and proper bun behind her ear. She smelled of sunshine, fresh air, and peaches. He wanted to bury his nose in her neck. Inhale her scent. Gods, it had been so long…centuries…since he had wanted a woman. He ached to have this brave slip of a woman. It had been hundreds of years since he’d felt anything at all, save apathy, anger, and a tiredness which crept through his soul, threatening to destroy him.

  The woman froze when he touched her. She looked like a frightened rabbit caught in the paws of a wolf, hoping if the rabbit didn’t move, the wolf wouldn’t eat her. “I…I don’t know why. I just had to. I couldn’t let that cretin kill you.”

  He was touched. Couldn’t remember how long it had been since someone had helped him without expecting something in return. His interactions with women over the centuries had been limited to fulfilling a physical need. Women wanted the warmth of his body for a night, and he wanted release, no attachments. Never brought a woman to his home, never spent the night in one’s bed. After they were both sated, he’d take his leave. What would it be like to wake up next to her?

  “I thank ye for your help. ‘Twas a brave thing to do.” Running his finger down the side of her face, he tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  Colin knew he had to be careful not to steal any of her energy. Taking a human’s energy was forbidden. It could instantly age or even kill the human. Shadow Walkers were forbidden from this, but Day Walkers, they preyed on humanity, and taking a human’s energy made them stronger. Day Walkers had no care for human life, didn’t live by the same rules, eager to kill as many humans as possible to increase their power. Once human themselves, Dayne, the god of light, chose them for how truly terrible they were as human beings. Day Walkers gladly embraced the immortal life, happily serving Dayne in his quest to destroy Shadow Walkers, to enslave humanity and rule the world.

  “Don’t fear me lass, I won’t harm you. They call me Colin.” He inclined his head to her.

  Emily snapped back to awareness. “Emily. Emily Laurens, from Charleston, South Carolina.” Never let it be said Emily Laurens didn’t use her manners in any situation that could possibly arise, after all, she was Southern born and bred.

  Her manners fled a moment later as anger set in at being set up. Bet Kat rigged all of this up with Ian in order to help her get over Charlie. She was going to let them have a piece of her mind. Smiling sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes, she twittered, “Of course, your name is Colin. You’re some totally hot guy hired to make all the female tourists swoon so Ian gets a great tip and I forget jerk face Charlie. Let me guess, you also wear nothing under your kilt to make it even more enticing in case a breeze just happens to blow your skirt up?” Emily glowered up at Colin.

  Smirking he leaned in, placing his hands on either side of her effectively pinning her to the wall as he studied her.

  “Don’t know who Ian and Charlie are and don’t care. You think I’m ‘totally hot’ and you want a feel up my kilt? Be happy to oblige you, Emily the Yank from South Carolina.” Colin let loose a very masculine, self-satisfied rumble.

  Great. Her face burned with embarrassment and anger at falling for the joke. The words stuck in her throat, she couldn’t think with him standing so close. She wanted something from him, something she couldn’t put a name to. Watching his pupils dilate, the heat radiating from his body, she was prey to this dark, lethal hunter. In that moment time stopped, stretching until she thought she’d shatter into a million bits.

  “One taste.” Colin swore, leaning in to capture her lips.

  Before she knew what was happening, Emily’s knees gave out. She reached out, grasping Colin’s biceps to keep from falling as she surrendered to the kiss.

  Something was wet and sticky under her fingers. Breaking off the earth-shaking kiss, she raised bloody fingertips to her face. Oh, fake blood. A tangy, coppery smell hit her nose, her stomach heaved…ick…it was real blood…not fake.

  “Somebody, please help, a man’s been hurt. Please. Somebody. Hurry. Where the hell is everybody?” Emily unknotted the scarf wrapped around her bun, the long hair falling free, her hands shaking as she wrapped his arm to stop the bleeding. It was bad; the cut started at his bicep, went down his forearm ending at his wrist. It was gonna need a ton of stitches. A ripp
ing noise startled her as Colin tore his other sleeve, tying it around his wounded leg.

  “Lass, quiet, before you alert others to us. ‘Twill heal soon enough, dinna fash yourself,” Colin drawled.

  As she started to protest; a crackling noise from the corridor stopped her.

  “Thank goodness, help is coming,” Emily said as she patted his bare thigh, careful not to touch the injury. The muscles flexed under her touch, solid like the ancient rock surrounding them.

  “There’s nothing you can do. This happens every bloody year.” Colin blew out a sigh and grimaced, “It’ll be over soon enough.”

  “It’s about time,” Emily raised her voice to be heard down the corridor.

  “Leave. Me.” Colin grasped her arms, lifting her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a bag of sugar.

  Something strange was happening. The air started to swirl, sounding like a thunderstorm was in the room with them. The hair on Emily’s arms stood up, the tingling of energy dancing across her skin as lightning flashed.

  “What’s going on! How can this be happening?” Her entire body was vibrating in response to the freak electrical storm.

  Colin opened his mouth but no sound came out. The storm enveloped him. Reaching out for her, Emily shook her head at him in mute horror.

  Voices. Shoulders slumping with relief, she turned to the approaching tour group.

  “Hey, over here! Thank goodness you’re here, this man needs help. He’s been stabbed. Where in the hell have ya’ll been?” Emily shouted at the tour group who stood goggling at her like she had three heads.

  “Didn’t you hear the storm? Can’t you see him?” It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. After a moment, she swore she heard giggling. Turning to point to Colin and the freaky storm, she was perplexed.

  “What the hell?” Emily muttered.

  She looked around frantically. There was no evidence of the storm or that anyone had been there—even the blood was gone. “Well folks, I guess one of our group has encountered a ghost or two.” Ian’s mouth was turned up in a gigantic grin as he moved closer to Emily.

  “This isn’t funny any longer. Stop pretending. You don’t understand. Colin was really hurt. He needs stitches.” Rubbing her temples, a headache started, throbbing behind her left eye.

  Kat came over to put her arm around Emily. “Honey, we’ve only been separated a few minutes. What are you talking about? Did you fall and hit your head?”

  “No joking around anymore, okay? Tell me if you and Ian had the re-enactors scare me. I get it, you want to take my mind off Charlie, but enough is enough. There were swords, fighting, lots of blood, a crazy, freak electrical storm inside, and disappearing people.” Emily turned around pointing to where the insanity had taken place right before her very eyes. It was as if none of it had ever happened.

  “I swear. There were three men fighting with swords. One gravely injured. Two of them died right in front of me. Then a freak storm came out of nowhere and Colin disappeared!” Emily’s face was red from shouting, sides heaving, hands clenched into fists.

  Kat nervously laughed. “Maybe that second glass of wine instead of dinner or those nips of whisky were a bad idea. Your imagination is playing tricks. Bet it’s how they keep the tourists coming back, I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  The group whispered and chuckled, talking about the ‘crazy American’. Emily let Kat lead her out of the Vaults into the night.

  Let them laugh. She knew what she had seen. Would figure out how they vanished. The hell if she was going crazy like aunt LouAnne.

  “Come on, let’s get you back to the hotel. It’s late; we both could use a good night’s sleep.” Kat linked her arm through Emily’s.

  “Do you think I’m losing it?” Her voice trembled. Quickly brushing a tear away, she avoided looking at Kat, dreading the answer.

  “Sweetie, you’re one of the strongest people I know, but I’m a little worried. You’ve been different since the ‘Charlie incident’, which is to be expected, but I think there’s something else bothering you. Look, normally we discuss everything ad nauseam but you won’t talk to me about the accident or your recovery. It isn’t healthy to keep your feelings bottled up inside.” Kat stopped her with a hand on her arm, forcing Emily to look at her.

  Blowing out a heavy sigh, she hugged Kat. “When I came…back. Being lost for eight minutes, it’s difficult to describe exactly what I experienced. I haven’t talked about the aftermath because I’m still trying to understand it all. We’ve talked about Charlie for a thousand hours, it isn’t him, it’s so hard to explain. I feel like on some deep level of my being, I’m different now, and I just want to figure out who I am and what I’m supposed to learn or do. There has to be a reason I was brought back. Bear with me, and we’ll get through it. I’ll be okay, don’t worry.” She hugged Kat and wiped the tears from her eyes. She wasn’t ready to talk about the vision or dream, whatever it was called. It was too personal; she wasn’t sure if she could share it with anyone, ever.

  Reaching into her coat pocket for a tissue and lip gloss, Emily’s fingers brushed something cold. Pulling her hand out of her pocket to see what it was, she opened her hand and squinted in the dim light of the streetlamps.

  In the center of her palm was a silver button.

  Looking at it closely, she could see some type of raised crest.

  It couldn’t be. This looked exactly like the ones on the shirt of that guy in the Vaults—Colin. How was that possible? But the button proved it. Emily had no idea how he pulled the disappearing stunt, but at least she was certain he was real.

  Reassured, she hid the proof from Kat, putting it back in her pocket, vowing to learn whatever she could about the mysterious, sexy Colin and may the stars help him when she found him. She’d give him a piece of her mind for scaring her so badly she almost had a heart attack.

  Squaring her shoulders, Emily marched down the street towards the hotel. A niggling thought made her stumble almost dropping the lip gloss she’d pulled out of her pocket. What if it wasn’t a joke and something else was going on here? What if he really needed her help?

  Find him. Get answers.

  “I need a drink to calm my nerves. Let’s stop in the lobby bar for a nightcap.” Emily snapped her lip gloss shut.

  “We might want to cancel our early-morning wakeup call; we could both use the extra sleep. The circles under your eyes look like bruises. It’s been a crazy night, so one drink then off to bed, everything will look better in the morning, I promise.” Kat patted her arm.

  Lost in thought, Emily didn’t notice a man standing in the dimly lit doorway of a pub they passed.

  Rawlins watched her, his head tilted to the side, considering, eyes gleaming with malice.

  His men told him of the fight with Colin, how this woman could see them when they had made themselves invisible. Which meant she had died and come back. Captain Rawlins Huntington, formerly of Her Majesty’s army, now a Day Walker in the service of Dayne, had heard of people with this ability. It was rumored they had a gift to somehow help Shadow Walkers. There was talk of a curse shrouded in mystery. He’d investigate; see what he could find out. If there was merit to this…possibilities swirled in his mind. His enemy was made up of fierce warriors and he’d be damned if a pathetic human would help one of them.

  This was war. The fewer of those shadowy bastards to contend with the better.

  Shadow Walkers guarded their secrets zealously, those arrogant assholes, thinking they were above them all simply because those sanctimonious bastards were charged with keeping the balance between light and dark in the world. No fun in that; it was much more amusing to kill the pathetic humans than to protect them.

  Walkers were like gods—meant to rule the world. The strong always overcome the weak; the weak meant to serve. The corner of his mouth lifted in a small semblance of a smile. The woman would be a bonus. He was going to kill her. If there was anything to this curse business he’d ensur
e she couldn’t help Colin. And if there wasn’t, well, he’d enjoy taking her energy watching her scream as she died. He’d send one of his men to keep an eye on the woman and to kill the friend so he could personally deal with this nuisance.

  Chapter 3

  Later that night, stalking through the World’s End pub, Rawlins sneered at the pathetic humans scrambling to move out of his way.

  He needed a drink, a human to drain, and a good lay, not necessarily in that order.

  His man Jackson hadn’t found anything of use at the women’s hotel other than their names and they were visiting from America on holiday. He was in a foul mood. At least Jackson used his phone to search the web and discovered the one called Emily, had died in an accident before being brought back. Rawlins was right; this Emily Laurens could indeed be the Cursebreaker, if there even was a bloody curse—you had to love modern-day technology.

  Sipping a twenty-year-old single-malt whisky, he scanned the pub. Several females were darting glances at him. At six foot three, he was taller than most men, with broad shoulders showcasing a heavily muscled body honed from years of sword work. Rawlins projected a deadly aura that had most men cutting a wide path around him wherever he went, while drawing women to him like bees to honey. Short, dirty blond hair cropped close to his head framed brown eyes so dark they usually looked black. Lounging on the bar stool, he loved modern-day fashion, no more uniforms for him, he preferred designer all the way. Tonight he was dressed in a black Armani t-shirt, Marc Jacobs black leather jacket, jeans, and black motorcycle boots; he was a predator surveying prey before striking.

  The pub was larger than it looked from the outside with the inside divided into the eating area and the bar. The dark paneling, leather chairs, and stone walls gave it an old-world flavor. The tourists flocked to this place. It hadn’t changed since he’d been stationed here in Edinburgh over four hundred years ago. Rawlins remembered fighting at Flodden Wall. Part of the wall was incorporated into the pub’s foundations, a section of which used to be part of Old Town’s defenses. Of course at the time, the pub was barely a ramshackle building serving soldiers alongside all kinds of riffraff and other infamous clientele.