Shadow's Soul

by Jami Gray

  Groaning, she lifted her heavy hand and batted away the uncomfortable sensation, only to have it growl at her. Blinking, she turned her head until her cheek pressed against the ground. As her eyes began to refocus, silver cat eyes set in black fur dominated her vision. She didn’t want to lift her head. It weighed too much. So she drew her hand over the muzzle lying mere inches from her face.

  “Hey, you.”

  Relief swam through her as she and her leopard reconnected, their bond snapping into place. A streaking burn ate across her ribs and down her hip, echoing the mark the Stealer had left on her leopard. The brush of its fur along her body had the pain receding along with the debilitating fear of losing her inner cat. It hadn’t hit her how much she relied on the animal who made up her other half until she was faced with the possibility of never seeing it again. Little by little, strength seeped back in. Rumbling purrs vibrated the skull under her hand. The sound brought a small smile to her face.

  “Since you’re here, we must be getting closer, uh?” The leopard stayed silent, but managed to set its muzzle between Raine’s chin and shoulder, nudging her. “Yeah, yeah—I’m moving.”

  There was no stifling her groan as she pushed to her hands and knees a-freakin’-gain. Using the leopard for balance, she got to her feet, swaying slightly.

  Looking around, she recognized the surreal clearing where she and her leopard had separated. They weren’t too far in, but it was going to be a bitch to get back. Everything hurt. Between the injuries she and her leopard had collected, her body would’ve done better facing off with a Mac truck.

  “Okay, kitty mine,” she muttered, tightening her fingers in the thick fur. “We have to get back and take care of Gavin and Xander.”

  An image of Lizbeth’s snarling face filled her mind.

  “Yeah, and her, too.” She took a deep breath and gathered the remnants of her exhausted magic. “Let’s finish this.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Raine shifted out of the psychic realm and came to in a pain-filled huddle on the chilly winter ground of the physical world. Blood from numerous wounds decorated the snow-dusted ground. Using the trunks of the trees around her and gritting her teeth against the unrelenting complaints of her battered body, she managed to get herself upright. As she re-traced her path to where she left Lizbeth, she searched for her bond with Gavin. The tight bands around her chest loosened when she found it. Muted, but there. As drained as she was, it wasn’t enough to stop her from reaching down the tie and brushing her spirit against his. When they connected, her sense of urgency increased as she realized why their connection was so one sided.

  Gavin was losing the fight for Xander.

  A sick feeling weakened her already shaky knees and she caught herself against a tree. Panting, she pushed away and set off faster than before. She didn’t have much to give him, but that didn’t matter. She kept her side of their bond wide open, letting him pull whatever he needed. They had to save Xander. She couldn’t think about losing another friend. Not again.

  Bursting into the space where she left Lizbeth, she was actually surprised to see the unconscious woman still there. The glint of sunlight sparked off the blade Raine had lost in the fight. Not taking her eyes off the prone figure, she went and picked it up.

  Approaching cautiously, she checked Lizbeth’s pulse. Still there. Okay, so that meant she couldn’t leave the crazy woman here. Simpler if she was dead, the cold, practical part of her mind reminded her. Growling, she shoved the temptation away and tucked her blade into a sheath. Tugging and pulling, she got the limp woman in a rough fireman’s carry.

  A string of curses accompanied each step she took. Damn shifter weighed a ton.

  “If you even twitch, I’m breaking your neck,” Raine muttered, sweat running down her face, despite the cold air.

  Her knees shook precariously as she passed through the edge of the forest. If she was a lesser person, she would’ve collapsed in tears at the sight of the cabin. Instead, she trudged on. The three steps up to the door were the toughest, but she finally made it.

  Using her shoulder, she pushed the door in and managed a couple of shuffling steps before her legs gave out and she dropped to the floor. Lizbeth’s dead weight slid off and she let the shifter’s body tumble to the floor. Too tired to even contemplate walking, she crawled toward the far side where Gavin sat, his back to the wall, eyes closed, and a fragile figure cradled in his arms. Even as she made her way across the room, she could feel the press of magic as he worked over Xander.

  When she reached them, she stopped, unwilling to break his concentration. The strain of using so much magic had thinned his face, stretching his skin tight over his bones’ sharp angles. It worried her, but she had faith he knew his own limits.

  Xander looked bad. Although a petite woman, her personality always made her seem stronger than her physical appearance. Her time with the Stealer stole that from her. Now she looked as if a stiff wind would shatter her into a million pieces. The delicate tattoos on her face stood out starkly against the unnatural pallor of her skin. Cuts and bruises marred her face and arms. Her clothes were torn and shredded in places. Raine knew Xander would hate the analogy, but Raine thought she looked like a battered fairy.

  Her heart clenched and she covered Gavin’s hand curled around Xander’s shoulder. As her skin touched his, his eyes snapped open to lock onto hers. Some small tension seemed to ease when he saw her.

  “You look like hell, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

  “You’re not doing much better,” she shot back.

  His attention dropped to Xander and lines around his mouth deepened. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold her.”

  Before she could reply, the door to the cabin slammed open. Instinct sent her spinning around on her knees, knife in hand, as she came to a crouch in front of Gavin and Xander.

  Framed in the doorway stood Warrick Vidis, Northwest Alpha of the Motoki Pack. Considering the absence of his normal calm demeanor, she had no intention of putting her weapon away. Standing six-feet tall, in jeans and a T-shirt, most people wouldn’t understand why a seemingly average-looking guy could make them do whatever he wanted. Last time Raine saw him, she delivered a traitorous human scientist as payment for the death of his pack-mate and fellow Wraith, Chet. The scientist was later identified by dental records.

  A rumbling growl filled the small room of the cabin. The volume increased as Vidis’s gaze locked onto the woman in Gavin’s arms. There was no mistaking the threat, even if you were blind to the burning gold stare of the wolf set in a human face. Or the fact that his body was poised to attack. No matter how possessive the alpha wolf was of Xander, Raine and her leopard were no less possessive of the man trying to heal her. Leopard and woman snarled in unison, their warning unmistakable.

  Vidis stopped just out of reach, turning his inhuman gaze to her, his lips curled back from his human teeth in a distinctly canine expression. Worried that the man was lost under the wolf, she kept her blade up and made her voice sound like quiet steel. “Vidis, we need you here.”

  It took a breathless moment before the roiling energy of the shifter began to recede. His lips uncurled and some of the stiffness left his body. Slowly, he reined in his wolf.

  Raine kept silent, not moving from her protective position. She wasn’t a fool. Among the Northwest Kyn it was common knowledge that Vidis and his wolf walked a thinner line than most about who was in control. It was pretty obvious his legendary control was currently shot to hell.

  “How bad?” The words were more growl than speech, but at least they were understandable.

  “We aren’t going to be able to hold her for long.”

  His fists clenched and his mouth thinned. “I’ll take her.”

  He closed the distance to brush past Raine and kneel in front of Gavin. A visible shudder shook him as he pulled Xander into his arms. As the tingly sensation of shifter magic rose, Raine felt the increase of Gavin’s pull on their b
ond. He and Vidis were combining their healing magic.

  Pushing to her feet she half-turned toward Gavin and Vidis when a male’s harsh cry broke through the room. “Lizbeth!”

  Snapping back around, she brought her knife up as Tomás Chavez fell to his knees next to his wife. His cry changed to a howl. Things were about to go south fast. As his howls faded away and he cradled his mate, Raine didn’t dare look away from him.

  “What did you do?”

  His wolf was so close to the surface Raine almost couldn’t make out his words.

  “She’s alive.”

  He snarled, the animal surging forward under his skin as he gathered the limp form closer. “She’s weak. Something’s wrong.”

  “I broke her ties to the Stealer.”

  Tomás’s eyes widened, fury twisting his features into an ugly mask. “You lie.”

  Not bothering to answer, she stayed focused on the enraged wolf, concentrating on the coiled body, watching for telltale muscle movements indicating an attack.

  A sharp scrape against her magic left her dragging in air through gritted teeth. “Damn it, Gavin that hurt!” Even as she uttered the reprimand, she widened her side of their link, giving him unfettered access. The scrape morphed into a constant pull. Uncomfortable, but bearable.

  Lizbeth’s low groan heralded her return to the land of awareness and ratcheted Raine’s tension up another level. One weakened Wraith against two crazed werewolves was not good odds. Thanks to her earlier confrontation with the Stealer and Gavin’s drain on her magic, she couldn’t even bring her leopard out to play.

  Lizbeth’s lashes fluttered open. Tomás curled her closer, lowering his shoulders over her. He didn’t take his attention from Raine. “Lizbeth?”

  His only answer was another low moan. Even around Tomás’ stocky body, Raine could see the stunned panic replacing the confusion clouding Lizbeth’s face. She began to thrash in her mate’s arms.

  “Let me go! Where is he?” Even with one arm obviously broken, Lizbeth twisted and clawed her way free. She rolled to her knees, cradling her wounded arm. Seeing Raine, she gave a shriek of fury and hate. “Bitch! It’s your fault!” Unmindful of her body’s injuries, she hurled herself forward, her lethal intent obvious.

  Raine stepped back, bracing for an impact that never came. Moving with the lightning speed of shifters, Tomás caught his wife in mid-leap. Even as she clawed his arms, leaving his skin in bloody strips, he held her captive, dragging her back.

  “Where’s my son?” There was nothing left of the composed woman Raine met days earlier. Her face was a warped mask of hate, her light tan replaced by a sickly pallor, while blood and mud mixed in a gory spatter across her torn clothes.

  “Lizzy, love,” crooned Tomás in a fruitless attempt to reach the woman in his arms. “Brett’s dead.”

  “No! I brought him back!” She stilled, her bloody fingers digging into her husband’s shredded arm wrapped around her waist. “He was here.” The words were a hiss. “She took him!”

  Tomás arms loosened with shock as Lizbeth’s words sank in. It was all she needed. She sprang out of his arms and straight at Raine.

  Not willing to let the crazy werewolf bitch near Gavin and Vidis as they worked to heal Xander, Raine lunged to meet her. She underestimated Lizbeth’s ability to ignore her injuries, because at the last moment, the woman struck out and slammed a solid punch into Raine’s collarbone just below her right shoulder. The flash of pain was swallowed under the wave of numbness that sent her knife tumbling to the floor.

  Unarmed, she twisted away, but Lizbeth’s hands curled around her throat, nails digging deep as she began to squeeze. Unable to use her right arm, Raine’s left arm came up and swept over Lizbeth’s arms, trapping them. Twisting her body, Raine bore down on Lizbeth’s weak arm and yanked the enraged shifter off balance. The hands at her neck lost their grip, allowing her to suck in a lungful of air. Ignoring the screams from her abused ribs, she straightened her arm and wrapped her hand around the back of Lizbeth’s head, pulling her down and forward. Lizbeth’s skull met Raine’s knee with a sickening crunch.

  Tomás’s, “Lizbeth!” and Gavin’s, “Raine!” fell on top of each other. Raine stepped carefully around the now sobbing Lizbeth, pins and needles skating down her arm as the feeling crept back. The urge to kick the werewolf while she was down rode Raine hard, but Gavin’s voice held her back. Sickening anger and resentment churned with pity as she kept her attention on Lizbeth.

  Flashes of Brett’s tortured memories wiped away the beginnings of any pity with a sheet of ice. Kneeling, she wrapped the matted hair in her fist and pulled Lizbeth’s head back. She jerked the woman to her knees. “Why’d you do it?”

  Hands clawed at Raine’s skin. “Do what?”

  “Why did you turn your son into a monster?”

  Cunning intelligence peeked out behind the grieving mother. And something else, something twisted. “He was mine! Mine to protect!”

  “Protect?” Raine didn’t bother hiding her scathing disbelief. “Is that what you were doing when you killed Jenny? When you sacrificed the woman your son loved and the child she carried? When you fed their souls to the Stealer?” Leaning closer, she ignored Lizbeth’s flinch. “Is that what you were doing when you teamed up with the man who killed your son?”

  The urge to snap Lizbeth’s neck sent tremors through Raine’s body. Mothers were supposed to protect their children, not torture them. Her hand tightened.

  For a moment, confusion stilled Lizbeth’s clawing hands and smoothed out the twisted face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Doug Ransom killed your son.” Cold and cutting, Raine slashed Lizbeth with the truth. “He wanted the land you and the Magi House held. He was in the middle of raising his pack of chindis when Brett stumbled on to him. Ransom set his pets loose on your son after Brett’s horse threw him.” Leaning close, she let all her disgust and sick fury echo in her words. “And instead of protecting your son, you taught him to kill. You didn’t avenge his death, instead you teamed up with his killer.”

  Lizbeth’s anguished wail filled the small cabin.

  Yanking her hand out of Lizbeth’s hair, Raine stumbled back. She needed space or she would do something she wouldn’t be able to take back. Spotting her blade she turned to pick it up. Before she could, two things happened simultaneously.

  A sudden, sharp pull on her waning magic doubled her over. Then she found herself on the wrong end of a battering ram. Growls, fur, and shredding claws wiped the cabin and its occupants away in a brutal swipe.

  Somehow her inner cat came to her rescue. Curving her body and bending it in a purely feline move, it wrenched vulnerable body parts out of the line of fire. Arms that had been fending off the sharp canines and thick claws of a maddened werewolf were now covered in dense black fur, tipped with deadly, curved nails. The pain of her shift was lost amidst the adrenaline and the accumulation of earlier wounds.

  At Raine’s change, Lizbeth’s wolf lost its earlier advantage. The two animals, leopard and werewolf, circled each other. Threatening rumbles trickled from the wolf, while the cat remained eerily silent. Deep inside, Raine could still feel the steady drain on her magic, but using her bond with Gavin wasn’t an option thanks to her fading magic and the pissed off bitch in front of her.

  In wolf form, Lizbeth was larger than a normal wolf. Deep reddish-brown fur was flecked with black. The cunning human intelligence radiating in the wolf’s eyes was strangely disconcerting. It didn’t help that Lizbeth’s grief and madness was etched through the amber orbs like cracked lightning. Unlike Raine and her leopard, who were still trying to figure out how to work as a unit, Lizbeth and her wolf faced no such problems.

  Considering she was fighting a calculatingly insane werewolf, Raine knew her best bet lay with her cat. Pulling her rational mind back, she urged her leopard forward. The cat stopped moving, which skyrocketed Raine’s pulse. Stopping and waiting for Lizbeth to attack wasn’t smart. Her cat disagr
eed. Gritting her mental teeth, she squashed her instinctive need to move.

  The cat lowered on its haunches. Power built in the coiled muscles of its hindquarters. Claws curled deep into the wooden floor. Whiskers noted the minute changes in the air. The tip of its tail twitched. Once. Twice. Its lips curled back in a silent snarl. Its gaze locked onto the angry wolf, its focus lethal and complete.

  A small shift of the wolf’s stance, and some elemental signal only the cat understood snapped the deadly standoff into furious motion. As the leopard sprang forward, the wolf went in low, the intent to cripple obvious. The snapping jaws missed their mark by a fraction as the cat’s flexible spine twisted the unprotected stomach out of reach.

  Raine felt the heat of the wolf’s breath ruffle her fur. Deep inside her cat, she shivered. Dear gods, Lizbeth may be nuts, but she was damn fast.

  Lizbeth’s claws scrambled for purchase against the wooden floor. Finding traction, she spun around.

  Raine’s cat drew in a lungful of air, dragging in the metallic bite of blood just before Lizbeth crashed into her. The cat’s need to kill coated everything in a confusing kaleidoscope of fur, teeth, and claws leaving Raine holding on for the ride.

  The bite of claws finding tender skin and muscles under fur blended into a continuous ache. She was distantly amazed at the singular focus her cat displayed. Numerous injuries piled up on both sides. The pain was ignored, but the blood loss became a different matter. Even her cat’s indomitable will couldn’t offset the weakness creeping in. They needed to finish this, quickly.

  While the two animals fought, Raine studied her opponent’s moves and the cat’s responses. It was an instinctive practice that saved her hide more than once as a Wraith.

  Much like her cat, she blocked out the shock of each new injury Lizbeth managed to score, looking for that one crucial opening. As Lizbeth’s wolf slipped in a puddle of blood, she found it. Acting as one, she and her cat attacked. Using Lizbeth’s momentary loss of balance and the cat’s own body mass, it slammed into the wolf, sending Lizbeth onto her back. Ignoring the flailing claws tearing down the feline’s sides and the hind claws desperately trying to find purchase in the cat’s tender belly, the cat locked its teeth over the wolf’s throat.