Could Shadows feel? Could they possess heart to actually care for someone else?
Perhaps it wasn’t that they were mindless beasts, but that they only cared for the most primal of needs. That was most obvious with the Infants, who hadn’t yet learned to control their blood lust.
The candle flickered in the darkness. The hallway was still. She felt her heart seize, each beat painful and ominous. Shadows teased her peripheral, and she jumped more than she probably should be as a well-equipped Slayer.
Regardless, Kelia did not understand those who were kept up in the rooms in the south section of The Society. Sea Shadows were vile things, whether they had an ability to also be cunning in their cruelty was of no consequence. Only untrained humans would be so easily fooled by the creatures.
Certainly, most Shadows were more beautiful than any human being. When she’d battled with older Shadows, she found them to be charming, graceful, and surprisingly well mannered. In fact, there were times it was difficult to distinguish between Shadow and human. Perhaps that was why the living population was so susceptible to their seduction techniques, unable to comprehend the danger they were truly in. And by the time they realized the danger, it was too late.
And that was the excuse Kelia had for the general population. But for the Slayers that knew better? She shook her head. It didn’t make any sense.
Kelia shook her head, chewing her bottom lip. Her skirts trailed behind her with each footstep. What she did not understand was how Shadows were able to have relationships with Slayers in the first place. If they were truly beasts, how could they feel? How could they care? It was one thing she did not quite understand regarding The Society’s teachings.
Drew Knight was known for seducing human women, then ruining their reputations before feeding on their blood and sending them away. While he never killed them, they were as good as dead as it was, since any hope of a marriage immediately vanished when the holes on their necks gave away what had happened to them.
Drew Knight was not only dangerous due to his age and power, but apparently, he also had a seductive charm that would cause even the coldest of hearts to melt. The Society had been trying to track him down for years, but they could never pinpoint his location.
The examination room was to her left. It was locked as well. No surprise. Kelia picked it with ease. After double-checking her surroundings to ensure no one appeared to have followed her, she turned the knob and opened the door. She peered around the dark room until she saw her father’s body lying on a cold slab, a blanket covering everything save for his unmistakable hair—auburn strands that almost looked red in the sunlight, but appeared darker in the shadows here.
As she crept over to him, all thoughts of being caught vanished. Now, she was alone with her father. What was left of him. And all she could wonder was who had done this to him.
She hesitated as she came to stand behind his head. Steeling herself, she reached out and placed her fingers on his hair. She shuddered. Still, no tears came, but her chest ached with a hollowness that she understood was not going to heal anytime soon.
Her father was right here, beneath this blanket. And yet, he was gone, completely vanished from this earth. She could not talk to him anymore; he would not be waiting for her after her next mission.
“Come now, Key,” she muttered. “You are not here to mourn; you are here to solve.”
With that push, she took a step back from the table and moved to the side, so she had easier access to pull the blanket down from her father’s body. Realizing he would be completely naked, she stopped once the blanket hit his waist. She thought she would have to search hard for what killed him. She thought it would be difficult to solve, that the medical examiner would have missed it.
But his cause of death was right in front of her eyes.
There were fang marks all over his body. The bites were everywhere, from his face to his ears, his neck to his back. Due to the paleness of his skin, she would estimate he was completely drained of his blood, which meant his death would have been painful but relatively quick. It was too dark to decipher whether the bites were from the same creature. But they looked vicious, intent to feed.
These were Sea Shadow bites.
Stepping back, she nearly tripped over herself, afraid to touch her father. She recognized the length between the two fangs, recognized the thin holes in the skin. Typically, a Shadow bit the neck or the inside of the thigh, where blood flowed the quickest. These bites were quick and fast, some nearly superficial. The intent was to drain… but also to inflict pain rather than pleasure.
Who would put her father through such a thing? And why would The Society hide that from her? Rycroft had told her that her father committed suicide, that the evidence was conclusive. Unless her father chose to walk into a nest of Infants, there was no way that was true.
She bit her bottom lip, blinking. Perhaps she was just seeing things. Had she even confirmed this was her father she was looking at?
Of course she had. The hair alone gave him away. Her eyes focused solely on his face, and her heart skipped when she saw the soft brow, the high cheeks, the thin lips, the round chin. She felt her eyes start to get misty, but she forced the tears back. Now was not the appropriate time to cry. She needed to get to the bottom of this.
Which meant she had to focus, control her emotions, and closely examine the injuries on her father’s body. She didn’t have much time, and she needed as much evidence as she could get.
Kelia swallowed, took a step closer. She had to put her candle on the surface of a table behind her lest she drop it due to how hard her hands were shaking. She rubbed her suddenly dry lips with her tongue. Her eyes scanned his bare torso. Scabbed blood was peeling off from where the marks were. His skin was white as the clouds during the summer.
Her eyes traveled downward until they rested on his hands. They seemed discolored, bruised. His fingers appeared dislocated, perhaps even broken.
Defensive wounds.
He had fought back. Which meant he had not walked into a nest of these Shadows on purpose; he was forced into them.
At least, that was the logical explanation.
There, right there, was evidence he had not committed suicide. He fought back. If he longed for death, he would have welcomed it with open arms. There would have been no reason for her father to fight back. And judging by his fingers, he fought hard.
Her father was known for fighting with his hands rather than a weapon, whereas Kelia took after her mother in that respect.
The Society was going to burn him, not because they wanted to honor his body—they would not honor a Slayer who committed suicide—but because they wanted to get rid of the evidence. And quickly.
She needed more time to think.
The Society wasn’t going to tell her anything. If they did, they would lie. They already had.
No. She needed someone with viable information. Someone who had been there.
Someone…
Someone like an Infant. Perhaps the very Infant she had taken into custody who was sitting in a cell, rotting away.
He probably would not help her, but Kelia was determined to try.
Chapter 6
The only person who might have any idea at all why her father would have bite marks all over his body was not a person at all. Rather, it was a monster, a beast, imprisoned beneath the fortress.
She clenched her jaw. She could not go now. Although the prison was not heavily guarded due to the implementation of silver bars on each cell, she knew she would have a better chance of talking to the Infant the next morning, while everyone was breaking their fast. Which meant she was forced to return to her room to try to sleep.
Turning on her heel to return to her quarters, she laughed bitterly. But more than that, she felt hurt, anger, and frustration.
How could she sleep when she’d found out her father had probably been killed by multiple bites from Sea Shadows? She could not tell if the bites were from the same se
t of fangs—her eyes were not trained as well as the physician’s—but she could tell with absolute certainty that he did not commit suicide as they would have her believe.
But why? Why would The Society want her to believe he had committed suicide? Was it to protect her from something or someone? And if they wanted to protect her, why send her to obtain an Infant by herself when she did not have the knowledge or the experience compared to her counterparts? She hated to admit it, but even Jennifer had aced the class about Infant Shadows, whereas Kelia had yet to even sign up.
As Kelia dressed into her nightclothes and climbed into bed, the question echoed again through her mind—why send her to capture an Infant? If she was allowed to kill it, Kelia would have been fine. She knew how to do that. She was nearly top of her class. But to capture it? Kelia’s physical strength was still a work in progress.
This Infant was not like the Infants she read about. He still had peculiar human attributes—the determination, the annoyance at Kelia for even being around. Those feelings were not something an Infant should be experiencing. Infants should only be acting—not thinking, but reacting—on basic needs: hunger, thirst, and sex. Anything more shouldn’t be possible.
Unless…
Unless The Society was lying about Infants.
She turned over in her bed, her cheek sinking into her pillow, but her mind would not turn off. She couldn’t even keep her eyes closed. Instead, she just stared into the dark.
Why would they lie about her father committing suicide?
Kelia bit her lip so hard it started to bleed. She couldn’t think about that right now. She needed sleep, so she would be well-rested and sharp in the morning.
Because tomorrow, Kelia planned to visit the Infant Sea Shadow.
The next morning, Kelia was not well-rested nor as sharp as she should have been. She was groggy with a heavy head and a yearning to crawl back into bed to forget. Because when she awoke, the memories from last night flooded to her, and she was hit with the reminder that her father was still dead. Still, no tears came, and Kelia stared up at the ceiling, trying to force them. Because that was what she should be doing now. She should be crying.
Pressing her lips together, she forced herself to sit up. She needed to change so she could go talk to the Infant.
It took Kelia only a short amount of time before she was ready. Her stomach was roaring with hunger, but she ignored it. She quickly headed down the stairs and through the east hallway on the main floor. It was empty for the most part, considering everyone was in the dining hall. She didn’t think anyone would miss her if word about her father had spread quickly.
A large door blocked the entrance to a long staircase that led to the fortress’s underground prison. Kelia had only been there once when she was but a child and they were giving the new school of Slayers a tour of their home. Slayers were forbidden down here alone unless one had proper clearance issued by a handler. Kelia never broke the rules, afraid of the punishment such an act would entail.
But now, she was desperate.
She had always wondered why captured Shadows did not burst into flame when they were brought back to the fortress, once day arrived. She was told it was because the prison where they were housed was technically surrounded by water, so they were able to retain their life—if one could call it that—and still be present on land…so long as they were brought to land at night and stowed away in the prison before daylight.
There was a lock on this door as there had been last night. This did not surprise Kelia. Using pins from her hair once more, she picked the lock and removed it from the door. This lock had no accompanying chain thankfully, so Kelia pocketed it for the time being, slipped past the heavy door, and shut it firmly behind her. She was not religious, but she sent a quick prayer up to whoever was listening that no one would notice the door had been compromised.
She descended the staircase. Though she wore slippers, the material was thin enough that the cold stone underneath chilled her feet, sending cold shocks up and down her stiff spine. She did not need a candle to light her way; torches on the walls illuminated the area. Being underground, she imagined it was always dark down here, even during the sunniest of days.
Kelia was grateful for that. She was nervous, though she had no idea what she was nervous for, or even why. But if she had been carrying a candle the way she had been last night, she was certain she would stumble down the stairs, burn herself with wax, and then get caught…all within seconds of each other. At least now her hands were free, which meant she could hold onto the stone wall, since there were no handrails.
Her footsteps were silent, and though she wanted nothing more than to get the interrogation over with, she slowed and held back. She could get caught at any moment, true, but she needed to steady herself, to quiet her mind and concentrate on what she wanted to know from this Infant.
When she reached the bottom floor, she flexed her fingers, feeling her palms start to get sweaty before patting the lock in her pocket. She did not want the Infant aware she had broken in against The Society’s orders. Taking a breath, she headed down the long hallway filled with empty cells.
The Infant was in the last cell. She could hear him muttering to himself like a crazy man. Her heart started to beat loud once again, and she hated to admit it, but she was afraid.
“I can hear you, Slayer,” a voice singsonged as Kelia drew nearer and nearer to his cell. “I could smell your fear from the moment you proceeded to walk down the staircase. A long way down, is it not?”
Kelia furrowed her brow as she listened to the Shadow speak. How was he still able to formulate words? Why was he not growling or shrieking or making beast-like noises he could not control? Why did he sound so…civilized?
When she finally stood in front of the cell, Kelia’s eyes widened. She’d been trying to control her facial inflections so they would not give away what she was thinking, but that effort was lost when everything she knew was completely contradicted in that instant.
The Infant did not seem like an Infant at all. Instead of being hunched over, he stood tall, his posture nearly perfect. He had shoulder-length blond hair and stormy grey eyes. The red rims were the only sign he was a Shadow.
He was tall—a head taller than she was—with broad shoulders and muscles on every inch of his body. He looked like a Greek god, not some animal.
Kelia clenched her jaw and shifted her weight. She met his stare once more, knowing he was going to appraise her just as she had done to him. She let him. Perhaps he might be more willing to share information—if he even knew anything—if she did not fight, if she came to him as open as a Slayer could come to a Shadow.
She held her ground as best, refusing to flinch as his eyes dropped from her face to take in her body. His gaze was not lecherous; in fact, it almost seemed as though he was ensuring she did not have anything hidden beneath the skirts of her dress, in the bodice, behind her back.
“You are the one who captured me,” he said. “The one who stabbed me.”
She immediately picked up his English accent, a hint of arrogance in it. She narrowed her gaze. How was he able to speak such perfect English? Why was he not trying to grab her and sink his fangs into her flesh due to the uncontrollable thirst for blood? Why was he speaking to her like a human spoke to another human?
“Luckily for you, your kind has amazing healing abilities,” she forced herself to say. “I’m here to ask some questions.”
“Aren’t you a little young to be a handler?” he asked.
“I’m not,” she began, but then cut herself off. Perhaps he would be more open to working with her if he thought she was a handler. “I’m not too young.”
His lips curled into a grin, and if his eyes had not been rimmed red, they would have sparkled. “You aren’t a handler,” he murmured, cocking his head to the side. “What are you doing here, then? Come to see an Infant up close?”
“If you remember our battle, I would say we’ve already been much clo
ser than I would have liked,” Kelia muttered drolly.
His cocked his lips into a grin. Kelia was surprised to see him avoid the bars of the cell. From what she learned, Infants were incapable of rational thought for the first three months of their transformation. He should be attempting to escape every few seconds by clutching the silver in his hands, regardless of how it would affect him. But this Infant stayed away, as if he knew the consequences of those actions and did not need to attempt to escape when he knew such a thing was futile.
“What is it you want, Slayer?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and taking her in once more. He seemed impressed that she stood before him without flinching under his piercing gaze. “Why are you here?”
Kelia cleared her throat. “My father is dead,” she said abruptly.
The Infant blinked. “I am sorry for your loss, but I’m not sure how that relates to you being down here with me. Alone,” he said. He furrowed his brow as though a thought had just crossed his mind. “What is your name, Slayer?”
Kelia bristled at the question. “Why?” she asked, squaring her shoulders, trying to keep her voice down.
“You want information from me,” he told her. “I want something from you.”
“You are an Infant,” Kelia said, forcing her voice to sound dismissive. “How do I even know you have the information I’m after?”
The Infant, who was unusually tall and broad, clenched his jaw, and Kelia found herself taking a step back.
“Is your father Gregory Starling?” he asked.
Kelia said nothing, but she didn’t have to.
“He died, correct?” he asked when he realized the answer. “Let me guess: The Society is telling you he took his own life. Am I right?” He scanned her face, and his lips slowly tipped into a grin. “They did, didn’t they?” He started chuckling.
“And what do you find so funny about that?” she demanded. She had to tense her muscles to keep from stomping like a child.
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