Midnight Shadows

by Emerson Knight

  “You seem like a dessert-first type of woman,” I explained.

  She accepted it with a coy smile, then retrieved her iPad from the counter and sat at the dining room table, eating absently as she scrolled through what appeared to be a long list of questions. I placed her glass of wine close to her plate, then sat across from her.

  “You are able to break wards,” she read as I placed both of our dinner plates on the table. “How?”

  “Can I at least take a bite before you start questioning me?” The longer I took, the fewer questions I’d have to answer before the drug took effect.

  She nodded agreeably as she forked another bite of cake. When I pushed her glass of wine closer to her, she brushed it aside, giving me a wary look as I sat across from her.

  “It’s a gift from Claudia,” I lied, reaching across the table to slide it back in front of her. Lying came easily to me, such that I didn’t have to think to moderate my voice, respiration, and heart rate to avoid detection. “Just take a couple of sips. I can assure you the next time you see her, she will ask for your thoughts about it. She will consider it an insult if you haven’t tried it.”

  Sky took an obligatory sip, raised her glass as a testimonial, then set it down. Her attention returned to her iPad as she scrolled through the questions, already searching for the next one. I remained quiet, watching. After a moment, she reached absently for the glass and took another sip.

  Relieved, I relaxed into my chair and began cutting my steak.

  She repeated her question.

  Waiting until she met my gaze, I took a long draw from my wineglass. She took another sip of her own, unconsciously mirroring my behavior. “My mother was a witch,” I answered. “I inherited it. In skills that Josh falls short in, I seem to excel. I shouldn’t have been able to do anything because I’m a were-animal, but things never happen as they should. When my mother noticed that I was able to do magic, she suppressed it.”

  “Suppressed it?”

  “With iridium.” I drew my left arm back, conscious of the iridium bracelet on that wrist. “I spent most of my childhood with either an iridium cuff or iridium injected into me.” The latter had been the most uncomfortable and had been forced upon me. I hadn’t understood at the time, but the constant presence of iridium cuffs would’ve been noticed.

  “Injected into you?” she repeated, appalled. “Couldn’t that have killed you?”

  “It wouldn’t be any worse than if Marcia or the others found out. She is a purist. Since she has taken over the Creed, she’s done an exceptional job at eliminating any anomalies that she is aware of. A wolf with the ability to use magic would have been a target for her.”

  Sky gaped in abhorrence.

  “Agendas do not discriminate based on age,” I explained. “Anomalies grow into adults that become problems. Delaying it because of a soft spot for children doesn’t make the problem go away or be any less dangerous.” It was a cruel but practical policy.

  I was raising a bite of steak to my mouth when she asked, “What is the fifth protected mystical object?”

  Surprised, I hesitated—an unconscious tell—but I quickly recovered. “I don’t want to answer that.”

  “You said you would give me the truth.”

  “That is the truth,” I calmly stated. “I don’t want to answer it. Next question.”

  She scrutinized me over the lip of her glass as she drew a long drink of wine. Won’t be long now, I thought.

  Sky didn’t bother addressing her iPad when she asked, “Did you really love Chris?”

  I paused with my knife and fork over my plate and glared at her. “That is neither relevant nor your concern.”

  “I want to know,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You promised you would answer my questions. You already avoided one. If you aren’t going to answer my questions, then you need to leave.”

  I let out a long, resentful sigh as I set down my utensils and crossed my arms over my chest. “Yes. I did.” Once.

  “You let her die.”

  She’d been brutally, methodically beaten nearly to the point of being unrecognizable, most likely by Michaela. While the pack and the rest of the Seethe had been fighting Ethos’s creatures, she’d taken advantage of the chaos to attack Chris, hoping that Demetrius, in a jealous rage, would blame me for her injuries. Michaela wanted a war between the Seethe and the Midwest Pack. She almost got it. Unfortunately for her, Chris hadn’t died right away.

  Sky and Kelly, Dr. Baker’s human assistant, both believed I should’ve changed Chris into a were-animal to save her, but they didn’t understand the process or the complications involved in transforming a human. Even for a healthy child, the transformation was dangerous. Transforming an adult carried much greater risks and was rarely successful. Chris’s injuries had been too severe for me to change her; the process would’ve been a cruel torture, and then it would’ve killed her.

  The transformation of a human into a vampire was a much simpler process.

  When Demetrius had offered to change her, I’d refused to allow it. Chris had worked for him, even traded blood with him, but she’d never wanted to be his slave. In siring her, he would’ve owned her for eternity. But Kelly had intervened. The choice hadn’t been hers to make. Defying my explicit orders, and violating the trust of the pack, she’d locked herself in the hospital room with Chris and Demetrius. She’d even allowed the vampire to feed from her in order to rejuvenate him from the fight, enough to enable him to change Chris into a vampire and transport her away from the pack’s retreat.

  Despite Kelly’s best intentions, she’d failed to save Chris. She was dead. She was a vampire. As far as I was concerned, the creature in her body was an evil, murderous beast, an enemy of the pack, just like any other vampire. There was nothing left of the Chris I’d known and had tried to protect.

  “So?” I demanded, answering Sky’s accusation.

  She frowned. “I couldn’t let someone I love die without doing everything possible to save them, even if it meant letting her be changed to a vampire.”

  She held my cold, unblinking gaze for a long moment, hoping for some form of capitulation on my part. In the world of predators, unbroken eye contact was a challenge. Sky didn’t understand that, but her wolf did. Eventually, her wolf instincts took over and she averted her gaze.

  “Well,” I said, stifling my irritation, “that is one of the many differences we have. I wasn’t going to be responsible for making a vampire, especially one created by Demetrius with the ability to be as dangerous as Chris. Next question.”

  “But—”

  “Next. Question.”

  She took a sip of wine as she scrolled through her iPad once more, preferably searching for a question that was less invasive about matters that didn’t apply to her.

  “How long have you known about me and what I am?” she asked.

  My lips spread into an amused smile. Her depth of distrust surprised and impressed me. Judging by the slightly glazed look of her eyes, the drug was beginning to take effect, which meant it was time to begin a test of my own.

  “I said we would have an honest conversation,” I started, “and I plan to honor that. You might as well have a neon sign on your face flashing everything you are thinking because it is that easy to read. When we took you to Claudia, it wasn’t the first time you had met her. You may not remember. You may have been eleven or twelve when she met you in a store. Do you remember her?”

  Sky shook her head, her curiosity piqued. “And what did she think of me?”

  “You were still young, but she found you to be peculiar. She could tell you were a were-animal that hadn’t emerged and suggested that we keep an eye on you. So we did. You didn’t really prove to be a danger, so we checked in periodically. It was quite a boring job for whomever was tasked with it. It wasn’t until Josh came to us with the request that you needed to be protected that you proved to be remotely interesting.”

  “Then why didn’t you want me to join t
he pack?”

  “Sebastian sees you as an asset. I still disagree and you haven’t shown me anything since we’ve met that has changed my opinion,” I lied, testing her reaction. If she couldn’t control Ethos’s magic, it would rise to the surface on an intense emotion, like anger. According to Josh, I would see the magic in her eyes—that same black vapor that had turned her eyes black when Ethos’s magic had overtaken her body. I continued, channeling my own anger, embellishing it. “You’re impertinent and irresponsible. Before, the only person who had to deal with your screwups was your mother, and given what she had to work with, she did an exceptional job. Now your carelessness is our problem. We are now tasked with the immense responsibility of protecting your life. I don’t think it is worth the risks.”

  Her cheeks flushed with anger.

  Good.

  I leaned toward her at the other end of the table, noting that her pupils had begun to dilate, but there was no sign of Ethos’s power. Not yet. I needed to push her closer to the edge. “As a Moura, you have your benefits, but I am not sure if the cost-benefit is really worth it. Those responsible for guarding things of such power must possess some of their own. At all times it should be controlled, never the other way around. I have not seen anything in you that would prove that you have the ability to possess or control anything of power, even your wolf half. At best, you’re an endearing mess; at worst, you become an obligation that could hurt this pack. You’re witty,” I admitted. “It’s good fun for a laugh or two. You’re kindhearted, which means you will be trampled by those in this world. You blush when you’re upset, you make unwise decisions when you are scared, and you are incapable of getting people to see a reality you wish them to believe. These are not the qualities of one fit to survive in this world. I figure far too many pack resources will be wasted trying to keep you alive.”

  I leaned back in my chair and waited for the fireworks.

  “‘Incapable of getting people to see a reality you wish them to believe’?” she spat back at me, incensed. “You mean lie? I am sorry I do not possess the qualities of a deranged psychopath and haven’t perfected the fiendish art of lying. Please, let me apologize for being sane and not an unconscionable degenerate. You of all people should know that you can never mistake kindness for weakness; they are not mutually inclusive.”

  “Of course they are, but in your case they aren’t. Your ability to manipulate magic can be an asset; however, of the many people I have encountered, I do believe it is a gift wasted on you. I still think taking on the responsibility of being your babysitter, and honestly that is what we will be for you, was one of the few unwise choices Sebastian has ever made.”

  For once, she bit her tongue, responding with only a malevolent, plastic smile before returning her attention to her iPad, swiping her finger down the screen in long, aggressive strokes until she saw a question that surprised her.

  “Why are you such an ass?” she asked. “I am sure you’ve already won some type of award for it. Why keep at it?”

  “Is that really on there?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  She turned the iPad around to show me and tapped a finger on the screen, next to the question. I smirked, impressed. If I hadn’t needed her angry, I would’ve laughed.

  “Do you really want to waste time on silly questions?” I asked.

  She turned the iPad around to examine it once more. I watched as her eyes roved the screen. “Okay, here’s another,” she announced proudly. “What happened in your life that caused you to be such a jerk? Are there any mood-altering medications that you aren’t taking enough of or too much of that make you act like this?”

  I chuckled unexpectedly. “You said you wanted the truth and I gave it. I’m not one to coddle people or to temper my words because of sensitivity. I advise you to toughen up, because that is more likely to happen than me changing. If you don’t want the answers, then don’t ask the questions.”

  She sucked in an indignant gasp, blatantly resisting the urge to go on the offense before she asked her next question. “The Tre’ases were afraid of you, and your presence sent Ethos into a violent rage. What is it about you that causes them to respond like that?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I’ve often wondered the same thing, but I don’t know that answer. I am an anomaly; there are many that simply hate me because of it. I guess we are alike in some ways.” Judging by her dark glower and the tension in her shoulders, I had pushed her to the borderline between anger and fury. I leaned over the table toward her. Gazing directly into her eyes, I saw the telltale black mist of Ethos’s magic gathering, aroused by her anger. I masked my regret, reminding myself that the chances that Sky could’ve kept such power under control had always been slight.

  I would perform the ritual as planned.

  “You know what I wonder?” I said. “Why Ethos was so lenient on you. He could have forced you to do whatever he wished—but he asked. When you stabbed him, he could have just as easily killed you—but he didn’t. Do you ever wonder why, Sky?”

  Her jaw twitched as she clamped it shut. She’d wondered the same thing. While she struggled with her emotions, I scooped up her wineglass along with mine and carried them to the kitchen counter, next to the bottle. While she stared at the table, contemplating my question, I surreptitiously drew the vial from my pocket, tipped three more drops into her glass, returned the vial, then poured wine into each of our glasses. With the glasses in hand, I walked past her into the living room, drawing her attention as I set them onto the coffee table next to a vase filled with decorative water beads, then dropped onto the sofa. At first, she simply stared at me, stubbornly refusing to join me.

  I scrutinized the portrait, waiting for her. I wondered if the shadow looming over me in the painting might be my own darkness.

  Sky joined me a moment later, her expression sullen and defiant. I lifted both glasses and handed one to her, intending to make a toast, but she set her glass onto the table next to the vase. For a moment, I wondered if she knew what I was up to, or if she simply thought I was trying to get her drunk.

  “You are aware of Maya’s story?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question. When Sky had been in a coma over a year ago, she’d spent four days communing with Maya. I only had Sky’s word as to the context of those conversations. I was sure she knew more about Maya’s history than she let on. “I am not sure how accurate the information is,” I continued. “Perhaps it is a tall tale or some twisted variation of the truth, but it is my understanding that Emma had another child, a son. She kept him hidden to keep him from Maya’s fate, and he grew up to be who we now know as Ethos.”

  Her pupils were mostly dilated as she stared back at me, trying to focus. The black mist there dissipated with the cooling of her temper. Distracting herself from my story, she scooped up her glass and sipped her wine.

  “Wouldn’t it make sense?” I asked. “After all, when he was reunited with his sister, he asked for her help in controlling the vampires and the were-animals. She could’ve taken control of you and joined him, but she didn’t. Even after her betrayal, when she stabbed him in the middle of battle, he never retaliated. Instead, he relinquished his power to her. Unfortunately, the fragile body that hosted his sister wasn’t able to contain it.”

  I watched her take another long drink of wine; for the first time, she seemed to notice the bitter taste, pausing to look into her glass.

  “What are you able to do?” I asked, distracting her.

  “Wh-what do you mean?” she slurred, surprising herself.

  “The magic that you kept—or should we keep pretending you didn’t?”

  For a moment, she considered lying, then shrugged. “Not much.” At a wave of her hand, the napkin on the table rose and danced about on the surface before flying toward me. I didn’t flinch as it rose over my head at the last moment. More objects around us began to rise, joining the dance.

  “Impressive,” I said. “Besides making napkins bounce around—and
I assume all your clothes in the morning as you make them dance around the room—what else can you do?”

  She gave me a groggy, speculative look, wondering how I knew. When I offered her no visual cues to glean from, she gave up her speculation. Her gaze softened as she concentrated, conjuring a defensive ward around her—a thin golden aura of magic that felt significantly stronger than I’d thought her capable of. Even sitting just outside the protective barrier, I felt the pressure of it pushing against me. When I pressed a palm against it, it repelled my effort with equal force. Testing its strength, I pushed harder at the barrier’s boundary, which responded by pressing me back into the sofa. Impressive. It also interfered with my plans.

  “Drop it,” I said politely.

  Her head tilted as she considered me for a moment before the field dissipated in a collapse of gold sparks that briefly illuminated the room.

  “What else can you do?” I asked.

  Her eyes shifted from mine to stare absently at the vase on the coffee table. “Nothing.”

  I doubt that. “Josh hasn’t allowed you to do any spells?”

  She shook her head, as if not verbalizing the lie would somehow mask the betrayal of her heartbeat, or the sudden shortness of her breath. She seemed about to collapse into sleep, her body slumping, when she caught herself. Startled, she glanced around the room for an explanation and settled on the wineglass.

  “I think I’m drunk,” she whispered, surprised.

  The sedative I’d put in her wine was taking longer than anticipated as she stubbornly resisted its effect. Needing to distract her, I decided to test just how powerful she was with Ethos’s magic. I drew my phone out of my pocket and sifted through magic spells I’d copied from some of the older books in the pack library, searching for one in particular. Once I located it, I handed my phone to Sky.

  “Read this,” I said. While she examined the document with a confused expression, I took a few beads from the vase, gently opened her hand, then placed the beads in her palm. “Change them.” It was a tall order. Rearranging the molecules of one object to create another required a great deal of power, even to create simple objects.