Midnight Shadows

by Emerson Knight

  “Sure,” she said with a wry smile. “What do you want? A bunny? Bird? Lizard? Kitty?”

  “You can’t produce something organic from an inorganic,” I explained. “No one can. But you should be able to change the form.”

  I waited patiently as she concentrated on the beads. After a long moment, I was about to abort the test when the beads began to vibrate. Slowly, reluctantly, they rolled toward the center of her palm as if drawn to each other, melting into a single, misshapen ball that then formed into a small basin. My eyes widened in genuine surprise. It was an impressive feat, but she wasn’t finished. A tiny, remarkable fire sparked to life within the basin, crackling orange, blue, and claret embers. I felt the heat rising from it as the fire began to spread toward the basin’s edges.

  I glanced anxiously at Sky. Her eyes were entirely black, indicative of the power she was using. As the fire threatened to overwhelm the edges of the basin, she seemed oblivious to the danger. Should the fire escape its confines, it would burn through whatever other material it touched and quickly start a fire that would be very difficult to extinguish.

  “Sky, stop it,” I urged, but she didn’t appear to hear me.

  I hurried to the kitchen and returned with a damp towel just as she yelped and dropped the now glowing-hot basin. I caught it in the towel—ignoring the heat of it as it tried to light the towel on fire. While Sky ran to the kitchen to run her hand under cold water, I quickly smothered the fire with the rest of the towel.

  Examining my hand, I found a mild burn. It hurt, and it would blister, but the damage wasn’t significant. With my natural healing ability, the wound would completely disappear within a matter of minutes. Retrieving an ice cube from the freezer, I gently took Sky’s hand from beneath the cold water and held it in mine as I slowly massaged her palm with the ice cube. Her burn was worse than mine, but already healing. She stared at the cube as I gently slid it over her wound. After a moment, she gave me a confused look, but didn’t object to my touch.

  The first cube quickly melted, and I retrieved another. The power she’d displayed was far beyond what I’d thought Ethos’s magic could grant her. The potential of such magic was difficult to contemplate. I understood then the intoxicating effect that magic had on my brother, but the risks couldn’t be denied. Had Sky attempted that same spell without my brother or me present to stop her from carrying it too far, she would’ve burned her house down, and probably the entire neighborhood with it.

  After the third cube melted into a useless stub, I tossed it into the sink and asked, “More?”

  She shook her head.

  I gently led her back toward the sofa. Once seated, I handed her her glass of wine, then picked up my own. A smug smile settled on her lips as she basked in the vibration of powerful magic that still thrummed in the room. The sooner I completed the ritual, the better.

  “I do believe I’ve underestimated you,” I said sincerely. “You are becoming very powerful. Impressive.” I sighed, resigned, and raised my glass to her. “To untapped power.”

  She gently tapped her glass to mine, then hesitated a moment before finally drinking the rest of her glass in a single tilt. I waited for the additional sedative to take effect as she contemplated the empty glass in her hand. After a moment, her eyelids fluttered and she began to sway.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, gently taking the glass from her and setting it on the table.

  She could barely keep her eyes open. “Too much wine,” she muttered, blinking. “It always makes me sleepy.”

  I slid off the sofa to make room. “Lie down.”

  “No.” She waved me off. “I just need some water.”

  “I’ll get some. Just relax.” Nodding slightly, she lay supine, closed her eyes, and stretched out.

  While she made herself comfortable, I retrieved the black bag from outside her front door. As the spell required, I placed six candles around her; one on the couch at her head and one at her feet, two beside her on the coffee table, and two more on the back of the couch. While I lit them in turn, her eyelids fluttered as she tried and failed to keep them open. By the time I finished, she was completely asleep.

  The air in the room thickened as the pungent redolence of herbs and cedar diffused from the candles, irritating my nostrils. Looming over Sky, I began the memorized chant. Once complete, I patted her cheeks—just enough to draw her from her drug-induced slumber. When her eyelids flickered partially open, she seemed unaware of her surroundings.

  “Sky, open your eyes,” I said, lifting her chin slightly. “Look at me.”

  She tried. Her lids fluttered open, but then slowly closed as she drifted back toward sleep. I patted her face again, progressively harder until she was finally able to keep her eyes open. Cradling her face in my palms, I whispered into her ear, “Repeat this.” I gave her the four key words, carefully pronouncing the sounds that were from an old dialect. When she repeated them, they were jumbled, breathed out in a reluctant sigh as she tried to go back to sleep.

  “No Skylar, you have to say them exactly as I did.”

  I repeated them again, breaking the sounds into syllables. After she repeated them correctly, I bent over to brush my lips over hers and inhaled, drawing Ethos’s magic from her until I felt the cold of it numbing my body, then turned away from her and exhaled the black vaporous mist into the room, where it dissipated. We repeated the ritual three more times. When I pried open one of her eyelids, her green eyes appeared disassociated, but they were clear. The black mist was gone. I sighed in relief, experiencing just a moment of satisfaction before I imagined the confrontation that would ensue when she woke up. But she was safe now.

  “What’s happening?” she muttered.

  “Go to sleep,” I whispered softly. A moment later she was snoring. I quietly blew out the candles and gathered them into the bag. I rinsed any trace of the wine from our glasses, emptied the bottle down the drain, and left.

  CHAPTER 4

  Once home, I changed clothes, then went for an evening run, hoping to wear myself down enough to sleep. Hours later, I returned home exhausted, showered until well after the water went cold, then went to bed without checking my phone. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t sure if it was the dark elf magic buzzing through my body—keeping me perpetually on edge—or my conscience. It was the right call, I reminded myself, a useless refrain that couldn’t save me from a downward spiral of guilt and anger. I harangued myself for not intervening sooner, and I harangued Sky for creating the situation that required my intervention.

  The battle continued inside me until it finally exhausted itself with the early glow of dawn. Instead of rising, as was my ritual, I fell into a restless, short-lived slumber. After only a few hours, I woke wondering just how long it would be until Sky showed up at my door to confront me.

  I was making a breakfast of steak and eggs when her car lurched to a halt in the driveway. She slammed the car door and was on the porch a moment later, knocking with a loud urgency. I turned off the stove with a snap of the control, set aside the frying pan, then strode to the door. For a moment, I just stared at it, expecting it to melt from the heat of her anger.

  When I opened the door, I found her glaring up at me, a molten fury in her eyes, her lips twisted into a hateful scowl. Her body was rigid, leaning toward me, with her fists clenched at her side. Frowning, I stepped aside for her to enter. She slammed the door behind her and stood speechless inside the entryway.

  If looks could kill. I leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for the volcano to explode.

  She tried to calm herself, taking a few breaths before finally asking in a restrained voice, “What did you do to me?”

  I rolled my eyes. Do we really have to go through the obvious? “You know what was done. Don’t ask silly questions. Why don’t we get on with it? Throw your tantrum, yell, and tell me how hurt and violated you feel. Call me whatever creative insults you’ve come up with and when you’re finished with your little sho
w—go ahead and let yourself out.”

  I had no illusions of being forgiven.

  “Why?” she demanded through clenched teeth.

  “Why do you think? If you can’t stop indulging every childish urge that overtakes you, then we have no choice but to intervene. If it is any consolation to you,” I added softly, “I do not enjoy cleaning up your messes.”

  “What you did was cruel and unnecessary. You could have just asked.”

  “Would you have agreed?” I asked, challenging her.

  She hesitated, knowing I was right but still clinging to her righteous indignation.

  “That’s exactly why I didn’t,” I added.

  Her cheeks burned crimson as her anger came flooding out. She shouted, punctuating her accusations by stabbing her finger toward the floor, “You had no right to do that to me! I know that somewhere behind that monster you put on display at every given moment, there has to be a real person. A person who balks at the way you treat people.”

  I frowned at her. I didn’t create problems. I solved them. “Josh’s affection for you has compromised his reasoning. It is unfortunate, because there is no way in hell you should have ever been allowed to keep that form of magic. So I had to clean up his mess and yours before things got out of hand. A situation that should have been avoided in the first place. You need to get over it.”

  I should’ve seen the punch coming. As often happened with Sky, I underestimated her. The blow struck the side of my mouth, snapping my head sideways. She wore a thin, triumphant smile as I turned back to her. Satisfied? Before I could ask, she punched me again. I spat out blood, wiping a smear of it from my mouth. My wolf rose to the surface, drawn by the violence. When she reached back to strike once more, I stepped forward, grabbing her fist while it was still cocked back. I drove her back against the wall, pinning both of her hands next to her head and pressing my body against hers to keep her from wriggling free. Her lips pressed together as she tried to sweep my leg. I blocked her, shifting my hip. Glaring down at her, I resisted the primitive impulse to strike back.

  My eyes locked with hers. I turned my head to spit out the blood building in my mouth, then ran my tongue over my front teeth to confirm they were intact.

  The fury burning in her eyes was fueled by pure, righteous hate. “You hide behind the false dogma that your actions are necessary to protect the pack,” she said. “That’s a load of crap! You do cruel things simply because it brings you pleasure. You are a sadistic, cowardly, self-absorbed asshole that enjoys behaving this way simply for the hell of it. And you are too much of a coward to admit it to yourself.”

  After everything I’ve done for you—I scowled, shaking my head—you don’t even know me.

  She sucked in a breath and continued her verbal onslaught. “You aren’t controlled by your wolf and your commitment to the pack. You are ruled by your narcissism and malice, and there isn’t anything humane about you. We might as well keep you in the zoo with the other animals.”

  I waited for her to continue, listening to the furious beat of her heart and the sharp, rapid breaths of her lungs. “Are you finished?” I finally asked.

  She glared back at me, lips defiantly pressed together.

  “I asked a question. Are. You. Finished?”

  She tried once more to slip away from me, but couldn’t. When she glanced down at my hips, I knew she was searching for a vulnerability.

  “If Ethos is actually dead,” I explained, “you didn’t think it wasn’t going to throw up flags each time you used his magic? It’s so strong I can feel it miles away. Whatever is going on between you and Josh has made him complacent regarding your careless whims and irresponsible behavior. I do not have that problem. I will not allow you to destroy this pack because you lack impulse control.”

  I stared into her eyes, waiting for some form of recognition. Was she so angry that she couldn’t see the truth? Disappointed, I frowned as I shook my head. “But you are too naïve and self-indulgent to understand the repercussions of your stupidity. There isn’t anything entertaining about it—it’s pitiful. You’re pitiful. Don’t worry, I won’t be pulling your ass out of the fire anymore. The next time you fuck up, and undoubtedly you will, I will let you burn for it.”

  “Let me go,” she spat, but I saw fear beginning to take hold in her.

  I’d let my anger get the best of me. My wolf fought to unleash itself and I found myself battling to keep it at bay. Every muscle in my body clenched with the effort. I struggled to relax, trying to breathe slowly, to unclench my jaw, but I’d reached a boiling point and was teetering on the edge of control. Growling, I pressed a hand to her chest and pushed her back into the wall, harder than I’d meant to. “Do you really understand the effects your actions have on things?” I shouted. “The problems aren’t just yours anymore. You are … no, we are dealing with things that we have never encountered, and the only thing you can do is screw up!”

  Sky opened her mouth to spit back a retort, but something surprised her. She flinched, as if shocked. The beat of her heart suddenly slowed to the point it struggled to beat at all, and her breath became a gasping struggle. Her gaze wandered, confused, as panic set in.

  Sky?

  “Get … off … me,” she gasped, weakly trying to brush me aside.

  Her heartbeat became almost inaudible.

  In my own panic, my eyes roved over her, desperately looking for something wrong, then settled on my hand pressed against her chest. I knew with a sudden, dark realization that I was killing her. I snapped my hand from her and stepped back, eyes wide with fear as I gaped in horror at her. The moment I broke contact, the beat of her heart strengthened.

  What’ve I done? “Sky,” I pleaded, “I’m sorry.”

  She pushed me, stumbled backward, then ran out the door. By the time I emerged from the house, her Honda Civic was backing out of the driveway in a rush. It stopped suddenly, then lurched forward as she sped off.

  Both of my hands pressed against my temples, I tried to contain my self-directed fury as I stormed back into the house. I’d lost control, and the dark elf magic had nearly killed Sky. I had almost killed her. I lost myself to blind, self-directed rage.

  Eventually I came to my senses to find myself standing among the remnants of my living room, my chest heaving as I caught my breath. Several jagged, fist-sized holes dotted the walls. Bookcases and tables were flipped over, contents spilled across the floor. The couch was on its end, leaning against the wall, its upholstery sheared away in rough strips. Turning, I saw the damage extended to the dining room. The table was broken in two, with a fist-sized hole at the epicenter. The chairs were reduced to long, jagged splinters.

  Glancing down at the iridium band on my left wrist, I snapped it off and hurled it across the room. After a moment of fuming, I begrudgingly retrieved it. Iridium couldn’t contain the dark elf magic—that was obvious. But I couldn’t be certain it didn’t inhibit the magic. Without the bracelet, would I have killed Sky outright? I couldn’t take the chance. Taking a deep breath, I snapped the band back onto my wrist.

  I sighed at the damage I’d done, but it wasn’t important, just wood and fabric—replaceable.

  Looking for my phone, I picked through the rubble until I found it beneath the overturned couch. No calls from Sky. I called her, impatiently waiting through the rings, only to reach her voice mail. I hung up and called again. And again. When she didn’t answer, I threw my phone against the brick hearth of the fireplace, where it shattered into pieces.

  Furious with myself, I sifted through the pieces and found the sim card intact. Retrieving a spare phone from the desk, I inserted the card, activated the phone, then downloaded the latest of my hourly backups from the cloud. Since most flashes of temper began with a phone in my hand, I’d streamlined the recovery process until it came as naturally as changing my clothes.

  I can’t lose control again, I thought, taking a slow, deep breath.

  I called Sky once more, cursed when it went
to voice mail, then called Josh. “I’m on my way over,” I said, then killed the call.

  I strode into Josh’s ranch without knocking and found him waiting in his leopard print chair, wearing a concerned expression. He rose to greet me as I walked into the living room.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  I stopped in front of him and whispered, barely able to believe my own words, “I nearly killed Sky.”

  His expression hardened. “Be specific.”

  “I specifically need you to figure out how to control this damn magic!” I shouted, then paced the living room while he remained unmoving, like a statue, observing me. “I got angry,” I admitted, irritated. “It just happened.”

  “Ethan, if you can describe exactly what happened, it might help to identify the magic’s source.”

  “You mean it might help you figure out how to use it for your own ends.” I sneered at him, instantly regretting it.

  As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t tell him. Only dark elves had the power to kill with a touch. If I described what I’d done to Sky, he’d recognize the magic, and then my death sentence would hang over him, as well. I couldn’t allow that. “I don’t need to understand it,” I stressed. “I need to get rid of it, or at least shut it down.”

  He suppressed his own temper, aware that I was withholding important information from him. He nodded, shrugged. “Iridium, then.”

  I raised my left hand, displaying the bracelet on my wrist. “It didn’t stop me from nearly killing Sky.”

  His mouth slightly opened in surprise. “Iridium suppresses all magic,” he insisted.

  “That was the prevailing theory,” I snapped. Since dark elves were supposed to be extinct, I guessed no one had thought it worth remembering that their magic wasn’t entirely subject to the rules that applied to other magical creatures.