The shadow remained an inexplicable curiosity of the painting. Perhaps Claudia had attempted to convey something she’d seen of my future—aside from being a powerful empath, she could also see the potential future of someone she touched. I’d never asked her for an explanation. Josh and I were careful not to press her about her abilities, or to take advantage of them. If she’d seen something I needed to know, she’d tell me.
“Why this one?” I asked, surprising Sky.
She turned slightly, taking a quick breath as she noticed my proximity to her, then shrugged. I moved to stand close beside her, silently observing the portrait with her as I considered my options. To perform the ritual, I needed to be with her alone, in a space where interruption was unlikely. I needed her to be comfortable and to let her guard down.
Her house, I decided.
“Let’s have dinner tonight,” I announced.
She scoffed, turning from the portrait to give me an indignant look, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “No.”
“No?” I grinned. “Why not?”
“I don’t like being lied to or threatened, and every time we’re together you do one or both. So, no, I don’t want to have dinner with you.”
“You’re the one who wanted to talk,” I said indifferently, noting the increase in her heart rate as I sidled closer to her. “I am giving you an opportunity to do that and I will answer any questions you may have.”
She scrutinized me, her curiosity piqued. “You will answer them truthfully and promise not to give me any of those silly lies of omission that you are so fond of?”
I nodded. I’d give her whatever honesty I could, but there were limits, lines I wouldn’t cross. She remained skeptical, but I knew she couldn’t resist the opportunity.
“I’ll see you at eight,” I stated.
She countered quickly. “I will meet you at Gigio’s at six.”
I raised an eyebrow. Was she that distrusting of me? Before I could ask why she insisted on a public meeting, I noticed Claudia approaching. “I will be at your house at eight with dinner,” I stated softly, then turned to greet my godmother. She appeared impeccably dressed, wearing long, elegant gloves that matched her peach pantsuit. Her delicate brown curls, usually up in a tight bun, were now loose, just brushing the top of her shoulders.
“If I am going to be subjected to your inquisition,” I explained to Sky, “I do believe privacy is necessary.”
“Ethan, I’m so glad to see you,” Claudia said in her metropolitan South African accent.
I smiled, greeting her with my customary air kiss over each cheek. Given her empathic abilities, it would be considered an intrusion to touch her skin without permission. While her abilities made physical affection challenging, she’d never been emotionally distant, like Miriam.
“You have to promise to visit more. Brunch Sunday, okay?” she suggested.
“Sunday will be great.” I made a quick mental note to rearrange my schedule.
Claudia smiled at Sky. “You should join us.”
“Of course,” she answered with a cloying smile; she’d no intention of attending. If Claudia noticed, she didn’t appear to be offended.
“Wonderful,” she beamed, then leaned forward to offer Sky an affectionate half embrace. Surprisingly, their cheeks pressed together. At first I thought it was a mistake on Sky’s part. Instinctively, I started to intervene, but Claudia purposely held their contact for a moment—a rare courtesy for her. Was she expressing her affection for Sky, or reading her? My godmother rarely used her abilities, except in times of great need. It was hard on her. To offer herself willingly was unusual.
After a moment, she broke the embrace, beaming as she gathered Sky’s hands into hers. “Your lovely friend is becoming one of my favorite patrons,” she informed me. “Her curiosity is inspiring. I see why you’re so fond of her, she is quite charming.”
Sky’s eyes widened in surprise at me.
“I am quite fond of her,” I repeated. “And her curiosity, if nothing else, is quite … charming.” My sardonic tone was met with a slight flare of her nostrils.
“Ethan,” Claudia said, “I’d like a word with you in my office, if you have a moment.”
“Of course.” I said, following her. I grinned over my shoulder at Sky, taking pleasure in her vengeful smile.
Claudia’s office was a private continuation of the gallery. Original artwork overlooked an antique cherrywood writing desk complete with an old-fashioned pen and inkwell, a mother-of-pearl chaise couch, and a pair of hand-carved wooden chairs on either side of a tea table. Claudia turned in front of her desk, observing me with an empathetic look.
I closed the door behind me.
“I’m sorry about Miriam,” she said.
“Thank you.”
We waited for each other to speak further. It was a game we both played with others, using silence to draw them out. She scrutinized me, as if searching for something. Could she feel the change in me?
“Did you have a chance to talk with her?” she finally asked.
“The dementia made conversation … challenging.”
She gestured an invitation toward the table. When we were seated across from each other, she leaned toward me, clasping her hands in front of her. “The distance she kept from you and from others was harder on her than you realize.”
That wasn’t a conversation I needed to have. I’d long since come to terms regarding Miriam’s emotional distance. Still, I listened patiently out of respect for my godmother.
“She didn’t tell you,” she realized, disappointed.
“She was not coherent.”
Claudia sighed. “As you are aware, our world is full of secrets, some more dangerous than others. I never told you because it wasn’t my secret to tell. But if she wasn’t able to, then I am the only one who can.” She reached out and placed a gloved hand on mine. “You’ve probably noticed something different about yourself since her passing.”
I straightened in my chair, a dozen questions racing through my mind at once, all of them doubtful that the mysterious magic inside me was connected to my grandmother. She must be referring to something else. Rather than worry Claudia, I didn’t want to bring up the incident with Lucas Reed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Miriam had abilities that she didn’t want anyone to know about.”
Had she been an empath, like Claudia? That would’ve explained a great deal about Miriam but had nothing to do with my present.
She continued, “As her only descendant, those abilities, along with the risk and the responsibility that come with them, are now yours. I wish there was some way to prepare you for this news. Miriam waited too long, and now you don’t have the luxury of a careful introduction. You’re in danger, Ethan—more than you know. Your grandmother was not entirely human.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Claudia gave my hand a light squeeze as she said, “She was a dark elf.”
I felt my jaw start to drop, then closed it.
Dark elves were extinct. Unlike their elvish cousins, whose powers were limited largely to moderate trickster magic or localized manipulation of the weather, dark elves had been formidable. Their greatest power, the one that had made them such a threat that the elves and vampires and were-animals had joined forces to exterminate the dark elven race, had been the ability to kill with a touch.
“That’s not possible,” I insisted, but Claudia wouldn’t involve me with unsubstantiated rumors. The timing of Miriam’s death made sense. The magic that had saved me from Lucas Reed had been hers, escaping her breathless body and transferring undiluted to her sole living relative. I hadn’t been set up. I’d been cursed.
Miriam had spent her entire life under a death sentence, as afraid of her powers as she was of revealing her true nature. I wondered how she’d hidden her magical abilities for more than eighty years. I’d never noticed if she wore iridium. For nearly all supernaturals, iridium suppressed magical abilities, but I do
ubted it had been effective on dark elves or it would’ve been offered to them as an alternative to death.
I thought about the way she’d avoided ever touching me, or anyone. She must’ve struggled with control. Perhaps she’d discovered her abilities just as I had, without any preparation or guidance. Had she spent her entire life withdrawn from friends and family out of fear that a single, casual touch could kill?
Instinctively, I drew my hand from beneath Claudia’s and stared at it. My mind flashed to images of my hand squeezing Josh’s shoulder as he rescued me, of carelessly brushing against Sky just a moment ago in the gallery.
I could’ve killed them.
“Ethan,” Claudia said, distracting me. “You’re stronger than Miriam was. To find yourself with such unanticipated power is a tremendous burden, but I’m confident you will find a way to control it.” She rose and retrieved something from the surface of her desk, then placed it in front of me on the table as she slid back into her seat. I stared at the thin, silvery metal. Iridium. “I’m afraid it won’t fully suppress your abilities, but it will help. Josh can be of great help to you, as well. I wish I had more to offer you. I’m afraid there is no one left who truly understands the power you now possess.”
I stared at the band, an unpleasant reminder of my own childhood. Eventually, the practicality of it won over my distaste. It would only take one emotional outburst to lose control and kill someone I cared about. I swept the band off the table and attached it to my left wrist, where it was less likely to be noticed.
“Thank you,” I said.
She studied me for a moment before asking, “Are you going to tell Sebastian?”
Can I trust him, you mean. There was more at stake for me than just the unexpected revelation of new magical abilities; a death sentence hung over me. If I told Sebastian, he’d be obliged to kill me, or turn me over to the other supernatural factions for extermination. If he protected me, the entire pack would be at risk. I couldn’t let that happen.
My mind reeled as I absorbed the complications of the new reality that had been forced on me. As long as I kept it a secret, the risks were mine alone. “I understand,” I said as I started to rise.
“There is one more thing I’d like to ask you,” she said.
I sat back down, eager to change the subject. “Of course.”
“I’m fond of Skylar, but if she had to choose between her personal safety and the safety of the pack, could you count on her to make the right choice?”
I scrutinized my godmother, wondering what she’d seen when she’d touched Sky. It was a futile effort, of course. Claudia was far too wily to give away more than she felt necessary.
“I have a request,” I said, taking her question as rhetorical. “If your offer of the painting of the two boys is still valid, I accept.”
She smiled, pleased. “Of course.” She’d been waiting years for me to accept it.
“I would like to give it to Sky,” I explained. My promise to answer her questions intrigued her, but I needed something more; the painting would put her completely off her guard. I also wanted her to have it. Perhaps after the ritual was done, the painting would help her to forgive me, eventually.
By the time I emerged from Claudia’s office, Sky had already left. Sitting in my BMW, I drew out my phone to call Josh, but stopped myself. Once he knew I was a dark elf, he would suffer the same dilemma that Sebastian would—turn me in, or suffer the consequences. I couldn’t put either of them in that position.
I pocketed my phone and drove the couple of miles across town to the Law Firm of Wendell, Harper, and Holmes, where I spent the afternoon burying myself in work. Like most of the pack, I worked professionally. Over the last five years, I’d managed to make a name for myself in corporate law, working exclusively with large, often international corporations. Clients frequently asked for me by name, which afforded me the ability to work whatever hours I saw fit—as long as the clients were happy, and I made sure they were. But there were times when I had to choose my responsibilities as pack Beta over those of my career. Twice I’d turned down an offer of partnership with my firm, leaving my employers baffled, but it wasn’t a difficult choice for me to make. Work was an entertaining necessity, and at times a welcome distraction, but the pack was my life.
I enjoyed corporate law because the stakes were strictly financial. Life and death weren’t part of the equation, as they were in pack life. This time, burying myself in the linguistic minutiae of a hundred-page international contract wasn’t enough. My thoughts repeatedly returned to my newly discovered heritage and the elf magic.
If Josh’s ritual could be used to remove Ethos’s magic, it could be used to remove mine, but the ritual wasn’t selective. I’d inherited some witch magic from my mother, and I had no intention of losing it. The Aufero seemed my best chance, though I wasn’t entirely certain it would be selective, either. Unfortunately the Aufero was in Marcia’s possession. I doubted it would just be in her office, sitting on top of her desk like a paperweight. No, the Aufero was too powerful to leave lying around; it would be hidden and protected by magic.
Frowning at the clock, I realized my appointment with Sky was growing closer. I’d enough to worry about now. I considered calling her to reschedule, but I reminded myself that her safety depended on the ritual. Still, I dreaded it. My emotions quickly ran the gamut from regret, to empathy, to anger in a seemingly endless loop. It needs to be done, I reminded myself, dreading the repercussions.
If she could control it… I heard Josh’s voice pleading. Having Ethos’s magic at the pack’s disposal could prove invaluable, but I didn’t think she was capable of controlling it or of using it responsibly, for all the same reasons I’d previously given Josh.
Perhaps I owed it to her to at least find out.
After I left the office, I stopped at a store to pick up a bottle of Sky’s favorite red wine, then stopped by Dr. Baker’s house to pick up a small vial of clear, odorless liquid. He didn’t bother to ask what it was for, and I didn’t volunteer. Once home, I rehearsed the ritual until I felt confident, then packed up the articles required into a black bag. I carefully tucked the wrapped portrait into the back of my SUV and slipped behind the wheel. After a moment’s hesitation, I frowned and backed the SUV out of the driveway.
On my way to Sky’s, I made a brief detour to her favorite restaurant, an Argentinian steakhouse. By policy, they didn’t offer orders to go, but I was a regular. A generous gratuity helped.
When I pulled into the driveway of Sky’s quaint two-bedroom home, I noticed David, her nosy neighbor and more-than-casual acquaintance, giving me a look that I could only describe as hungry suspicion as he strolled on the sidewalk. I scowled back at him and he quickened his step, trotting away as quickly as he could manage without putting his fear on display. Her relationship with David and his partner needlessly put them at risk of dangers they couldn’t possibly anticipate. When she’d purchased her home, I’d counseled her to limit her interactions with neighbors to just the amount necessary to avoid suspicion. She’d rolled her eyes at me, much the way Josh did when he thought I was being overly cautious.
I carried the black bag to the porch and placed it against the house, out of sight next to the door, then returned to my SUV to retrieve the portrait, the dinner, and the wine. I took a slow, calming breath in front of the door, then knocked. After a long moment, I was about to knock again when the door opened.
Sky greeted me with wary reserve, but then her green eyes were drawn to the wrapped portrait, brightening in surprise as she eagerly accepted the gift. I followed, passing her on my way to the kitchen while she carried the portrait into the living room to admire the wrapping. I assumed she was trying to guess which painting I’d brought her.
I placed the wine and the bag of takeaway onto the counter next to her iPad, then began searching the cupboards for plates, glasses, and utensils. Next to the wineglasses, I found one of Steven’s coffee cups, bearing the logo of his university.
I scowled as I glanced around the house, noting the curious absence of his belongings. He’d been virtually living with her before he’d left to help his mother rebuild the Southern Pack. I guessed that his belongings were still there, temporarily stashed in the so-called guest room. I didn’t approve of their living arrangement, but I let the matter drop—for the moment.
I retrieved a corkscrew from a drawer and opened the wine. “Open it,” I encouraged her. Her lips spread into a delighted, childlike smile as she began gently sliding her fingers along the seams of the wrapping. While she was distracted, I drew the vial from my pocket and tipped out three drops of a translucent liquid into her wineglass, then returned the vial to my pocket and poured the wine.
I heard a slight gasp as she lifted the framed portrait just far enough out of the box to recognize it. “How did you get this?” she exclaimed. “She said it wasn’t for sale.”
I divided the steaks between the plates, giving Sky the best cut. “It wasn’t.”
“But she sold it to you?”
“No,” I said as I plated the potatoes and asparagus. “I asked her if I could have it so that I could give it to you.” I smiled back at her, enjoying her happiness. “You seem to really like it. I wanted you to have it.”
Her grin broadened as she gingerly drew the portrait the rest of the way from the box and held it in front of her, beaming as she examined every detail. Incomprehensibly, she reached out with a finger and gently touched the canvas, as if proving to herself that it was real. I remembered the gold sign that had hung next to the portrait on the gallery wall that had read PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE ART, and chuckled.
“Thank you,” she said, genuinely pleased as she gently leaned the portrait against the living room wall, then backed away several feet to examine it.
Once everything was ready, I plated the single piece of red velvet cake and brought it to her. She was nearly as delighted by the cake as she was the portrait.
Midnight Shadows Page 6