by Olsen, Lisa
The Company of Shadows
By
Lisa Olsen
Copyright © 2013 Lisa Olsen, all rights reserved.
Cover Image licensed by Depositphotos.com/Francesco Cura
This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, copied, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any other format or changed in any way, including the author’s name and title, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The use of any real person, company or product names are for literary effect only and used without permission. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Visit the author’s website at http://www.lisaolsen.net
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my editing team, Beckie Pimentel (Lady Bex!), Marilyn Weaver, and my James for helping me to sharpen my writing skills. Randi Pandi (who read the first draft in one night!), thanks for reassuring me that it’s okay to go a little darker sometimes.
Chapter One
Need.
Not wants or desires, but need drove Asherik to seek the company of shadows. The sunlight didn't pain him in a physical sense, but he preferred the darkness. All manner of interesting things grew bolder under the cover of night, all driven by need. Street toughs openly flashed makeshift weapons, demanding tribute of those stupid enough to look prosperous on the seamy streets of San Francisco. Junkies smashed car windows, searching for anything portable worth a few dollars, desperate to slide oblivion into their veins. Women sold their bodies, some to chase that same oblivion, some to feed a deeper need. Scuttling vermin and insects; night was the perfect time to feed, and Ash felt a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied by tender bits of veal sautéed in an excellent Marsala.
Though he enjoyed the comforts of excess (the elegant meal, black satin sheets, and panoramic views of the bay that stretched from every window of the modern house he’d appropriated), Ash preferred the seedy squalor of the Tenderloin district when it came time to satisfy his true hunger. There, among the dregs of human society, he felt a kinship. His sins were no worse than the sins of man. There were plenty who fed from terror, pain and lust. Tonight he was after something far more elusive -- innocence.
He could pluck a victim from the streets at any time for the taste of fear; it was corruption Ash sought. Corruption of innocence above all else, a feat made all that much more elusive for the hunting ground he chose. It would be nothing to lay in wait outside of a church or a library and find all manner of easy prey, but he wanted more. Nothing so simple as virginity, though that was a keen pleasure to be had, but an innocence of spirit was all the more satisfying to consume. Far tastier than the gobbets of quivering flesh he fed upon when the mood struck.
Though he enjoyed the occasional grapple with men, Ash preferred the softness of women. There were women to be had on the streets, but their dead eyes offered him no joy. He wanted to hunt. He wanted the thrill of discovery.
And so he’d dressed himself in an elegant suit of virgin wool, soft against the skin and pleasing to the eye. Black on black, open at the throat, with a shock of scarlet peeping out of the breast coat pocket. Perhaps a bit warm, given the muggy night, but Ash didn’t mind the heat. He enjoyed a good sweat.
He pushed the silver coupe he’d appropriated through the squalid streets with a squeal of tires, daring a policeman to stop him. There were none in sight, having abandoned that part of the city for the night unless called. Parking a short distance away from his chosen destination, he didn’t bother to lock the car, preferring to make it easier on thieves. It made no difference to him if the car was there on his return, and after a brief consideration, left the keys in the car; a lucky find for a comrade.
The neon and pumping music called him to his purpose. Inferno -- the club brought him everything his delicate palate could desire. Here, women were used in the dirty bathrooms and no one looked twice. One could obtain all manner of mood altering drugs through sale or trade. Sometimes Ash chose to indulge. Turn on, tune in, drop out… the concept hadn’t changed much since the sixties, and there was a draw to that kind of nothingness.
If he was in the mood for a quick fuck, there were women who required less than a crook of his finger to follow him wherever he led. The body he'd chosen was well formed and desired by women. Dark, smoldering eyes that promised a garden of delights, strong jaw covered in a rasp of stubble, designed to raise a flush of tender pink on delicate flesh. Lips full and constantly quirked in a half smile that implied he knew secrets. Secrets he might share with the right woman.
That was all that mattered, be the woman pretty or plain. Make a woman feel special and she became yours, body and soul. Sometimes Ash allowed himself to become lost in the pursuit of debauchery alone. To bury himself in soft, slick heat, chasing pleasure until the dawn. He left those women with nothing more than a satisfied soreness and a love bite or two.
But always the need returned.
Need drove him to push past the crowd, plucking a full glass from an unguarded table (it mattered little what it held), settling on a white vinyl couch in the rear of the club to watch. Ash liked to watch. He liked it very much.
There was an air of indifference to the swaying throng; an almost tangible apathy, as though none of them expected to live to see the dawn. Peppered among them, like writhing tongues of flame burning brightly in the gloom, were those who were in over their heads. It was there that he hoped to find the flash of innocence he sought.
It was there that he spotted her. Long, raven hair spilling down her back, beckoning to him, begging him to wrap its length around his fist and pull her close. But he would watch and wait. The night was still young and he enjoyed the pleasure of allowing the need to build.
For now.
Chapter Two
“Sometimes I feel like I'm the only person in the world not having sex.” Cady Garrett leaned against the scarred table, not liking the way the low couch stuck to her sweaty skin when she sat back. It made her wonder what other bodily fluids had been stuck to the cheap vinyl in the past.
“That's just silly.” Kelli held platinum curls away from her neck, pressing a cool glass to her cheek. Even without all the dancing, there were enough people in the club generating body heat to rival any sauna. Never troubled by modesty, she wore the briefest of skirts, a generous amount of flesh showing both above and below the scraps of pink fabric she called a blouse. Cady could see Kelli flexing her bare toes under the table. That’s what she got for wearing ridiculously high heels to a dance club. “Did you even see that guy over there with the ponytail? Trust me, you are not the only person not having sex tonight.”
Cady couldn’t help but look, hiding her smile behind a rum and diet soda. Falling into the game, she pointed a discreet finger alongside the glass. “And sausage fingers guy isn't having sex.”
“I’m not having sex,” Penny volunteered in her babydoll voice. She alone seemed unbothered by the heat in a navy blue dress, better suited for a dinner at the marina. Probably because she was so tiny, her body didn’t produce enough of its own heat to keep warm. She’d actually brought a sweater with her despite the summer heat, her dark hair loose, covering her shoulders both in front and back.
It made Cady itch to tie it back into a ponytail, glad her own long, auburn h
air was wound up and out of the way in twin knots. Her clothes lay somewhere in the middle of the two extremes her friends sported. A thin, strappy tanktop over skinny jeans and pretty sandals she could dance in without breaking a toe. Cady wasn’t on the prowl, she just wanted to relax and have a good time. “That doesn’t count, you’re engaged,” she said, taking another cooling sip of her watered down drink.
“Which is ridiculous. You should be having more sex than the two of us put together,” Kelli snorted.
“No one has more sex than you, Kelli.” Penny gave her a sweet smile, ducking to avoid the wadded up napkin Kelli threw at her. “Hey, can I help it if Justin is old fashioned? He wants to wait, so we’re waiting.”
“No guy likes to wait,” Cady murmured. It was part of the reason why she wasn’t having sex these days. No guys liked to stick around long enough for her to be sure. Not since high school when sex wasn’t expected after the third date anyway.
“What if you get to the big night and it’s… you know…” Kelli’s finger wilted and she made an accompanying sound like dying in a videogame, but Penny maintained her serene superiority.
“It’ll be wonderful because we waited.”
“I’m sure it’ll be magical.” A touch of envy crept into Cady’s smile, though she wasn’t sure her friend had the right idea either. Cady wasn’t exactly saving herself for marriage; if she found a guy she loved, she’d be doing the deed every chance she got.
“And if it’s not…” Penny’s voice lowered, as if she was about to share something wicked. “Then I’ll just pack old reliable with me and take care of it myself.” The women traded a giggle, clinking their glasses in a hasty toast.
“Well, I’m not old fashioned, I’m jaded,” Cady proclaimed with a weary sigh. Burned by too many men (and too recently), she’d made a silent promise to herself to take a break from the dating world.
“How can you be jaded already?” Kelli scoffed. “You’re barely nineteen years old. Look at me, twenty-three and I’ve slept with half the population of Angola. If anyone should be jaded, it’s me.”
“Cool it!” Cady’s gaze darted around nervously. “I don’t want to get tossed out of here.”
“Newsflash, nobody cares.” Kelli drained the rest of her glass and pressed it to her cheek, chasing after the remnants of cold. “Look around, they’re too caught up in their own shit to waste two seconds over whether or not you should be in here.”
“I guess,” Cady relaxed. She was right, nobody gave her a second look. “Hey, what is the population of Angola, by the way? Just so we know what kind of numbers we’re talking about,” she teased, drawing a narrowing of the eyes from her blonde friend.
“Oh Cady, you’re looking at this all wrong.” Penny shook her head, chasing after the cherry in the bottom of her glass with the flimsy straw. “You’re the opposite of jaded, you’re a romantic.”
Cady almost spilled her drink, eyes bugging out at the ridiculous statement. “What? Take that back!” she demanded, but to her disgust, Kelli joined in with a sad shake of the head.
“You know it’s true.”
“It is,” Kelli added. “That’s why you haven’t hooked up since Stefan dumped you. You’re still waiting for that perfect, non-existent guy to sweep you off your feet.”
Familiar words of protest jumped to the ready, it was a subject they’d gone over before. “He didn’t dump me, I dumped him.”
“Only after he stopped calling you.”
“I thought we agreed not to mention the S word anymore?” Cady scowled at Penny until she went back to chasing her cherry.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
Cady fell back against the couch, hugging her elbows. “I’m not waiting for a perfect guy,” she muttered. “I’m just tired of going out with guys who are only after one thing.”
“I know what you need.” Kelli’s blue eyes widened, and Cady’s stomach sank, fearing the blonde’s passion for whatever it was.
“Please don’t say makeover…”
“Oh, that would be super fun, but not what I was going for.” Kelli waved the thought away. “I was thinking more along the lines of you taking a break from picking out guys since your judgment is obviously flawed.”
That didn’t sound so bad, especially since it already went with what she had in mind.
“Instead you should let us pick out your next guy!”
Because her judgment was so much better? “That’s crazy. All you know how to pick is guys to hook up with.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to pick the super boring guys you’re into,” Kelli insisted, earning a frown from Cady.
“I don’t like boring guys.”
Kelli continued, undeterred. “Besides, Penny knows how to pick guys that want to wait, look at Justin. He’s almost not even a man.”
“He’s a man…” Penny ventured in a small voice, and the pair debated that for a few minutes while Cady watched, until they both turned to her with expectant faces.
“This is stupid,” Cady insisted, refusing to even consider it.
“No, really. Just for tonight, either you pick a guy or we’ll pick for you.” The bubbly girl stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
“Why would I make a dumb deal like that?” Cady kept her hand firmly in her lap. “I don’t want to go out with anybody.”
“That’s because you haven’t met our guy yet,” Penny nodded brightly, her dark eyes already searching. “Let’s see… who do we have to work with?” They made a big show of scanning the crowd, but Cady sat back, already having lost interest in the game. As if it was that easy. Pick a guy out like a book on the shelf. Didn’t they realize you couldn’t judge a book by its cover? Otherwise Rico Suave from across the room with his dark, smoldering looks (and probable venereal warts) would be the answer to all her dreams.
While she went up to the bar to buy another round of drinks they continued their search, squabbling between themselves over what type of guy Cady needed. Kelli insisted Cady needed a hottie to make her forget about her stupid standards and have a bit of fun for a change, while Penny seemed to take the exercise very seriously, carefully assessing the possible suitors.
She made it back to the table with the drinks in time to see Kelli throw her hands up in disgust. “I give up, how about that homeless guy over there?” she gestured, not even caring if he heard her or not.
Cady’s head swiveled, unable to keep from looking. He sat alone in the corner, elbows resting against the table, watching the crowd with an unshakable intensity. Wearing a blue hoodie under a faded army jacket, everything about him appeared rumpled and frayed, prompting the homeless crack, but she didn’t think he actually lived on the streets, he was too clean.
An unshaven jaw, not the kind Rico Suave over there cultivated to perfection, but rough, as if he’d forgotten to shave for a week. The straight blonde hair was a little shaggy on top too, but trimmed close on the sides in an almost military cut. His nose was too flat to be conventionally handsome and had obviously been broken before, but the eyes were a clear, cornflower blue, free from the glassy stare of drugs or too much drink.
“Hey, I know that guy,” Cady realized suddenly. “He's not homeless, he’s my neighbor.”
“He's not that bad,” Penny allowed, taking a deeper look. “His eyes are pretty.”
“He needs a makeover, STAT,” Kelli speculated, taking a long drink. “I think you should be the one to give it to him, Cady.”
“I don’t think he’s interested in a makeover,” she snorted, continuing to watch the man. His gaze slid over to their table and then quickly flicked away. Had he heard them? Not a chance over the din of the music, Cady decided.
“You should go talk to him,” Penny nodded encouragingly. “He’s your neighbor, that makes him safe.”
Cady wasn’t sure she followed the logic in that, but before she could reply, Kelli laid a hand on her arm.
“No, hold everything, take a look at this guy.” Kelli smiled ove
r the rim of her glass at a guy on the dance floor, wildly gyrating his hips in her direction. “That is the kind of guy who could curl your toes. Go talk to him instead.”
Ick. “You know what, I think you’re right.” Cady pushed herself up from the table. “I should go talk to him.”
“Really?” They blinked in unison.
“Sure, it would be the neighborly thing to do.”
Chapter Three
In general, Cady didn’t have trouble talking to guys. Outgoing by nature, she figured the worst that could happen was he could tell her to F off, and she could at least say she’d tried. Still, she hadn’t approached a total stranger like that before, usually there was some other pretense that had her offering the first words. Something like… I love your jacket, do you ride a motorcycle? But what could she say to this guy? He looked like he was dressed from Salvation Army castoffs.
“Hi, I don't think I've seen you in here before,” Cady approached, smiling past the inner cringe at the lamest pick up line ever.
“No, thank you.”
Not what she’d expected to hear. “I wasn't offering anything.” A furrow appeared on her brow, he hadn’t even looked at her.
“It's just a general no, thank you.” He offered the barest of smiles before returning his eyes to the crowd. “I'm not here to pick up girls.”
“Oh, are you into guys?” Cady sat beside him, the brief smile and oddly polite rejection piquing her curiosity. He didn’t outwardly object to her taking a seat, but he didn’t look thrilled about it either.
“I'm not here to pick up anybody,” he growled, letting out a sigh that could have meant anything from a deep heartache to indigestion. “Go try someone else.”
Cady’s eyes darted back to her table to get a thumbs up and an encouraging grin from Penny. Kelli was already making eyes at the mad dancer she’d spotted before. “I’m not trying to pick you up either.”