Shadow's Soul

by Jami Gray

  “You took something of mine, so I took something of yours.” Raine kept her voice cold. She needed Lizbeth to move away from the cabin, just a few more feet, far enough to stretch the ties of the ward.

  The woman wasn’t completely gone, though. She teetered on the first stair. “Brett, come here.” The demand was made in a tone mothers everywhere had perfected.

  When the illusion made as if to move, Raine raised her blade until it rested against the boy’s neck. She tsked.

  Lizbeth snarled and crouched, her wolf swimming to the surface.

  Come on, Raine urged silently. You know you want to rip my throat out.

  Lizbeth trembled with the need to lunge.

  The illusion whimpered.

  The small sound broke Lizbeth’s leash and she was airborne.

  Raine’s magic tore through the thinned thread of warding. “Go, Gavin!” Using her cat’s inherent reflexes, she leapt out of the way of the raging she-wolf.

  Landing in a crouch where Raine once stood, Lizbeth reached for the image of her son, only to have it disappear as the ward broke with a sharp snap. Her anguished howl rent through the clearing.

  Gavin burst from his spot and sprinted up the stairs to the now unprotected cabin, leaving Raine with Lizbeth.

  Feral madness robbed Lizbeth of any semblance of humanity. Only an insane beast remained. She began to circle Raine, forcing her away from the cabin and toward the woods.

  Raine let her, needing to keep the woman away from Gavin and Xander. Besides, she could handle one crazy shifter.

  Lizbeth lunged again, and Raine tried to spin out of the way. Instead, she slammed into a tree trunk. Her shoulder and back screamed at the impact. One of her knives fell from her numb fingers. Careening off the tree, she flew backward as Lizbeth barreled into her. Deadly claws now tipped Lizbeth’s hands and the snarling mouth was filled with sharp teeth—teeth that were trying to rip out Raine’s throat.

  Raine got her arm under Lizbeth’s chin. The slicing claws shredded her shirt and the skin along her ribs. Hot, fetid breath mixed with the low growls as Lizbeth ignored the choking pressure on her throat and continued to lunge for Raine.

  Raine’s remaining blade was clutched in the hand holding Lizbeth back, while feeling slowly returned to the other arm. Needing another weapon, Raine let her cat out to play. The shifting of hand to claw was quicker than usual, the pain of the shift lost in the numbness. Raine wasted no time in raking bloody furrows along Lizbeth’s side.

  The wolf’s low growls turned into sharp howls of pain. The pressure of Lizbeth’s body suddenly disappeared.

  Using the momentary breather, Raine shoved to her feet, ignoring the streaks of fire along her ribs.

  Lizbeth crouched in front of her, her wolf flowing over her human features, watching. Blood dripped from her shredded skin, but those hazel eyes were now a blazing gold. Her lips were pulled back in a snarl, but she made no move to charge. Instead, she just stood there.

  Uneasy, Raine tried to figure out what the other woman was waiting for. The icy fingers of dread spreading over her soul clued her in. She didn’t need the geas or her tracking magic to realize she had forgotten what else was tied to Lizbeth. The Stealer.

  With no time to waste, Raine lunged for Lizbeth. The shifter met her half way, going in low, trying to take Raine’s legs out from underneath her. With her leopard so close to the surface, Raine let the cat’s instincts take over. The muscles in her thighs curled and then she was airborne.

  Lizbeth’s claws missed by a hair’s breath. Twisting in mid-air, Raine managed to land in a crouch and swiped out, her claws scoring Lizbeth’s back.

  The wolf managed to stop her forward momentum and executed a graceful spin. Without pausing, she leapt, teeth bared, claws curled. She may not have shifted completely to a wolf, but it was obvious her animal was in control. Normally, that would count in Raine’s favor. Not this time. Lizbeth and her wolf both knew they had nothing left to lose. Desperation made her unpredictable. Add in the fact that the twisted evil of the Stealer was a constant wave of ice over Lizbeth’s spirit, and Raine needed to end this quickly.

  Dodging a wild swing by Lizbeth, Raine missed the furtive swipe that took her just under her ribs. The searing impact drove the breath from her lungs in a harsh rush. Doubled over Lizbeth’s arm, Raine snapped her hands around the woman’s wrist. Spinning herself into Lizbeth’s body, she kept Lizbeth’s arm extended with an unyielding grip.

  With a savage growl, Raine straightened. Using her shoulder as a fulcrum point, she pulled down on Lizbeth’s outstretched arm. Lizbeth’s agonized howl accompanied the sharp snap of bone. Letting go of the now useless arm, Raine swung back with her left fist and scored a hit to Lizbeth’s ribs. Continuing her spin, she delivered a short, but damaging strike just under Lizbeth’s jaw.

  Lizbeth crumpled to the ground in an unconscious heap.

  There was no time for relief. A heavy weight slammed into Raine from the side, sending her over the heap that was Lizbeth. She met the forest floor with a sickening impact. Her vision grayed as her body fought to drag in much-needed air. Fetid breath curled around her face as her body clawed for freedom. Using the flexibility of her cat, she managed to twist her spine, throwing her opponent off balance. It gave her some room to move. Her booted heels dug into the spongy ground and she scraped her palms raw as she scrambled back, trying to get away.

  The sharp bite of bark against her spine stopped her retreat. Using the tree for balance, she dragged herself upright. She pressed back against the tree and tried to focus on the ever-changing image of the Soul Stealer. Here in the physical world it was more a construct of writhing shadows, except for the gold eyes. Even with the shifting darkness, there was a sense of lethal muscles coiled in readiness. The constant roiling movement was difficult to watch, almost nauseating.

  Right now the hellish gaze was focused on her.

  In comparison, Raine’s legs were shaky and the wounds Lizbeth inflicted were edged in fire. Shoving her body’s complaints into a little compartment in her mind, she locked it closed and took a quick weapons inventory. Both wrist blades were gone, leaving only the blades tucked along the sides of her boots. Behind her back, her sharp claws dug into the bark, a sure sign her cat was barely leashed. And locked behind her shields, lay her magic. For the first time since arriving in this damn desert it was a pulsating mass, wanting—needing—to be freed.

  In the space between her and the unconscious Lizbeth, the Stealer paced, its gaze never wavering.

  The normal forest noises were preternaturally quiet.

  Knowing she would need both her knives and her magic, Raine settled into a crouch. Her hands curled around the hidden hilts nestled in her boots as she thinned the shields holding her magic in check.

  In front of her, the Stealer mimicked her crouch and shifted its weight to its haunches, head lowering, the demonic gaze focused with predatory precision.

  Never breaking the lethal staring contest, Raine drew her blades free. At the same time, she drew on her magic, bringing forth the same white flames that managed to push the Stealer back in their previous encounter.

  Tendrils of white fire crept over the crouching monster. Silent and lethal, they grew in speed and strength, seeming to burn through the shadows making up the Stealer. Its’ shriek was like nails scraping over metal. Yet as Raine watched, the creature shook its monstrous head, flinging the white flames off like water. Fear bit Raine hard. It was obvious the unnatural fire was not as detrimental here as it was in the spirit realm.

  Options. She needed options because her odds of surviving a physical fight were pretty damn low. Her mind cycled furiously even as she maintained the tense staring contest. Last time, she hurt it by tearing apart its bond to Cheveyo. Souls fed the Stealer. Gave it energy. Was there some way to rip apart its ties to the souls it had consumed?

  The Stealer shifted, revealing the crumpled form behind. Lizbeth was the key.

  A solution burst into blindi
ng clarity. No matter how many souls the Stealer consumed for strength, at its core, it was created by the strength of the summoner. If she could draw it onto the magical playing field, maybe she could tear apart the bindings between monster and creator.

  The Stealer lunged.

  Her cat, who was crouched in readiness, took over. She dodged, animal instincts pushing the thinking woman aside. She ran, the Stealer close behind. Flying over downed logs and twisting through the winter-bare forest, the image of a cat fleeing a wolf flashed through her mind. It wasn’t until the image changed and showed a cat dropping from the trees on to the unsuspecting wolf’s back, that she understood. The leopard needed control.

  Using the opportunity her animal half offered, Raine surrendered her body to the leopard and stepped into the magical landscape. The scene changed. Now, she and her leopard ran side by side while the ever-changing image of the Stealer chased. Trusting the cat to keep them both ahead of the pursuing monster, Raine used her bond with Gavin to share her half-formed plan.

  She found him frantically trying to repair the damage Lizbeth and the Stealer had inflicted on Xander. Until Vidis arrived, Gavin wouldn’t be able to physically help Raine.

  “Stay,” she urged. “I can do this.” She felt his frustration and worry even as he gave her everything she asked for.

  “You come back alive.” It was nothing less than a command.

  Instead, of setting her teeth on edge, it wrapped around her heart like a warm mantle. “I will.”

  She and her leopard scrambled up an incline and dropped over the side. Her twin popped into existence as soon as they were out of the Stealer’s line-of-sight. Thankfully Gavin was able to give her that much. While the Stealer would see only Raine in the physical world, if it decided to move the hunt to the psychic plane, her twin was a necessary diversion.

  Raine peeled off, leaving her leopard with her doppelganger. She worked her way through the dense underbrush to hide behind a particularly thick tree trunk as her twin and leopard disappeared into the trees. The cloying wrongness of the Stealer flowed over her a moment later as it chased its prey.

  Raine followed, keeping to the shadows and muting her magic as much as she dared.

  Raine’s leopard stopped under a huge tree, crouched, and sprang. The shock of shared pain echoed in Raine’s fingertips as claws dug into the bark and dragged the leopard’s body up. The animal managed to pull its entire body into the tree just as the Stealer skidded to a halt underneath.

  Raine crept forward, worry surfacing. Although the Stealer tended to act like a wolf, there was no reason it couldn’t follow the cat. As it continued to snap and snarl underneath the branch where the hissing leopard padded, she prayed her luck would hold.

  Blades in hand, she made her way around the tree, circling to the left of the Stealer. Letting the physical world slip a bit more beneath the magical one, she concentrated on the undulating mass of black belonging to the Stealer.

  As before, the darkness called to her, tantalizing whispers of vicious needs and brutal desires. Her barely repaired barriers broke under the onslaught, but instead of fighting it, she let it drag her deeper into the writhing mass.

  Oily slickness crept over her skin, weighing her down. Images coalesced, spiraling like a demon-infested montage of the twisted path that could still be hers. Her thoughts began to warp as she was drawn deeper into the miasma of the Stealer’s evil influence.

  Twisted visions swamped her—Lizbeth, bloodied and eviscerated, her body a red ruin in a ruby pool spreading over the white blanket of snow. Tala, mouth open in silent screams, as bits and pieces of her body and magic were torn asunder. Cheveyo’s spirit in tatters, his earth-toned energy nothing more than mere shreds, his skin stretched like some macabre Saran Wrap over his bones.

  The last image triggered a response—a sharp scrape over her soul as the geas kicked in. It left her clawing to the surface of the vile tide. The wave of deadly possibilities pulled back, and she struggled to find her honor and humanity in the strange pause. Into that instant of quiet came the lifeline of Gavin’s iron will, determination, and love. She grabbed hold, even as the next stygian wave pushed her under.

  This time the images weren’t possible options, they were past truths. A red-haired woman in a lab coat, her mind fragmented under the influence of the drug Raine pushed into her veins. The soul-chilling joy as the woman was reduced to a screaming, mindless creature. Whips of burning flames, claws tearing through skin, raking bone aside to tear into the soft muscles of a beating heart, while the demon-rimmed eyes of her best friend stared into hers. Screams of a woman crouched over a fallen man, lips tinged in blue as he struggled to drag in one more elusive breathe only to find…nothing. Walking away as silent, sociopathic satisfaction of a job well done filled her.

  “You are mine—blood, mistakes, and all.” Gavin’s voice sank through bone and blood, through her spirit, until the words scored themselves on her soul. Their bond seared, yanking her from the nightmares of her past.

  The wave receded, leaving her spirit battered and torn, but still whole. Gritting her teeth, she focused on her surroundings. Thick, twisted, dark ropes tangled around her. She never realized how many different shades of black existed. Here, in the depths of depravity at the heart of the Stealer, the energy was so nefarious, it seemed to swallow all hints of life. Even as the Stealer focused its foul attention on shredding her spirit, Raine held on, Gavin’s strength and love giving her a small space to think.

  The core of the Stealer was a tight ball of evil. The consumed souls nothing more than threads of black magic. She considered hacking her way through, but quickly dismissed the idea. As soon as she cut through a bond, it would reform, stronger than before. There was no differentiating the energy of each thread, no way to tell which ones belonged to Lizbeth. Which meant she had to find a way to destroy the entire core so it had no chance of recouping. Hopefully, the mass destruction would also destroy its ties to Lizbeth.

  The darkness deepened, cutting off all sensation. Her vision tunneled until the core was barely discernible. Light—she needed light. White flames burst into being and the strangling magic loosened. Some bonds burnt to nothing, others retreated. But the flames weren’t enough. It would take her too long to burn through the thick mass.

  As the pinprick of returning physical sensations raced over her, the feel of something solid in her palms reminded her of the other weapons she still possessed. If her fire could burn the Stealer, how much more damage could she do if she combined her blades with the fire? Would it be enough?

  There was only one way to find out.

  She sent her magic into her two blades until they glowed white, then began carving a path to the center of the Stealer where the inky shadows undulated in a sickening ball. The mass retaliated, hundreds of twisted threads lacerating her skin, leaving bloody cuts of varying degrees behind. But pain could be ignored. She had years of practice. She sliced her way forward, hearing the screams of the Stealer as it realized the biggest threat wasn’t the woman pacing above it, but the one cutting a path to its heart.

  Raine brutally slashed another tie, burning it to ash, only to come face to face with her goal.

  On the physical plane, the Stealer struck out and her leopard screamed. Searing agony tore through Raine, freezing her in mid-motion. Between one breath and the next, the agony snapped off and her arm continued, severing another thread. Vicious triumph flared under the exhaustion and slicing pain of hundreds of small cuts.

  She raised a glowing blade determined to jab it as deep as she could, only to be knocked aside as if rammed by a frickin’ truck. Her spirit was dragged back from the Stealer’s heart and hurled into a familiar arena. The Stealer had abandoned its physical body for the psychic plane and was now focused solely on Raine.

  Oh goody.

  Needing the leopard’s strength and cunning, she reached for her cat. There was no answer. Whatever the Stealer had done, it was bad. Or—a small part of her whispered
—she was too deep in the magic for the leopard to find her.

  Either way, she was truly on her own.

  Putrid breath fell over her face, and she gagged at the acrid smell of rotten flesh. Crouched over her, the Stealer’s massive head darted close. Using her knives, Raine slashed out, her blades the only thing keeping it from ripping her face off. Each time she slashed the burning weapon across the creature, it screamed, but it didn’t let up.

  Her left arm was trapped between her body and the Stealer. So she fought the massive jaws and jagged teeth back with sharp, deadly stings of the blade in her right hand. Locking her jaws, she shoved the knife between the Stealer’s ribs.

  White flames ripped through the monster. It shrieked and twisted, desperate to get away from the fire eating its way through its vulnerable underside.

  As it reared back, Raine rolled out from underneath it, scrambling to her feet, both blades still dancing with flames. The Stealer turned its wounded side farther out of reach as they circled each other, both looking for a vital opening.

  There would be no leaving until the Stealer was destroyed. She could continue to slice and dice, trying to take the creature apart piece by piece, but it would return the favor. She needed to do something drastic.

  “There are those individuals who can see magic, and then there are those very rare individuals that can not only see magic, but change it.” The words of the creepy ancestors came back.

  After what she did to Tala’s geas, there was no denying she could re-weave magic. Which meant there was nothing stopping her from undoing the magical weave of the Stealer. Except for the small question of retaining your sanity and soul. The irritating, internal voice was back, snottier than ever. Even as reason and loyalty warred, the geas added its two cents leaving her no choice.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Stealer snarled, its focus fixed and lethal. Raine gritted her teeth and lunged forward. Her sudden attack took it by surprise and its awkward paw swipe was easily blocked. It did what she wanted and reared back. Taking advantage of the move, she rammed her blade to the hilt in the Stealer’s chest.