The Company of Shadows (The Company #1)

by Olsen, Lisa

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.” Picking up his hand and placing it over the towel, she rose and scurried off to get the items he needed, her sandals sliding on the scuffed hardwood floor. The duct tape was harder to find than she would have liked, and she slipped it over her wrist like a bracelet, then headed for the kitchen to grab the pitcher of tea.

  This was going to be messy.

  “Are you still with me, Ethan?” she asked, finding his eyes closed again when she returned.

  “Yes.” Ethan reached blindly for her, and she grabbed his hand, sitting on the bed beside him. His eyes opened, the pupils large and dilated, nearly swallowing the bright blue irises. “You’ll have to pry the wound open and wash it out good. Don’t worry about hurting me, you have to make sure you get it all out.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that one bit. Was he worried about cross contamination from Claudio’s blood? Somehow she didn’t think tea would be enough. “Get what all out?”

  “The rust.”

  “The knife was rusty?” Cady kicked at it with the edge of her sandal, but it was too crusted with blood to tell. “Why would you carry a rusty knife?”

  “Not important.” He let go of her hand to wave it away. “Can you do that? Clean it out well? Use gauze to swab it clean if you have to.”

  Ick. “Yeah, I can do that,” she pledged, with more confidence than she felt. Grabbing another of the towels, she placed it by his side to catch the worst of the runoff from the tea. “We’ll go on three again,” Cady decided, glad when his head tilted back again and his eyes slid shut. She didn’t want to have to look him in the eye when she hurt him again.

  This time she didn’t hesitate on the count, pulling the bloody towel aside and pouring the cold tea across the wound. It had already started to clot, and the tea washed away crusty chunks of blood and worse, the wound bleeding freely again. How was this a good plan?

  Ethan’s body tensed as the cold liquid hit him, and his breath came in controlled pants again as he fought through the pain. The liquid fizzed in certain places, almost like hydrogen peroxide, but the more she poured on, the less it bubbled. True to her promise, Cady pried open the wound, watching carefully as she poured more tea over it. If there were flakes of rust in there, she couldn’t see them, but she kept pouring until two thirds of the pitcher was gone.

  “There, I think that’s good.” She took in a long breath, pressing a fresh square of gauze to the wound. The towels were a soggy mess, and she tossed them on the floor where they landed with a wet slap.

  “Thank you,” he groaned, his voice sounding very far away and she thought he might pass out.

  “Ethan? Are you still with me?” she prompted. “I need you to sit up if I’m going to get this tape on.” Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to get enough pressure on the wound. She had to wind it around his torso, similar to taping broken ribs. “Ethan, can you hear me?”

  His eyes popped open again, a little too widely. “Cady?”

  “I’m here,” she reached for his hand again. “Did you understand me? I need you to sit up a little, can you do that?” If not, she’d have to figure something else out.

  “Yes,” he groaned again, pushing himself up. Not quite ready for the movement, she grabbed the roll of duct tape, which still hung around her wrist like a loose bracelet.

  “Good, you’re doing great,” the encouraging words slipped out, and Cady continued the litany of praise while she applied a fresh piece of gauze and tape, winding it around him carefully. Luckily, he was not a hairy man. His chest was smooth and muscled; it wouldn’t be too painful to remove the tape when the time came. “There now, it’s over. Lie back and rest,” she said with gentle pressure at his shoulder when she was done.

  “I need to drink first,” Ethan protested, his hand weakly reaching for the pitcher of tea.

  “Oh, sure,” she nodded. “Do you want me to get you a glass?”

  “No, thank you.” His fingers closed over the handle of the pitcher. “This is fine.” Cady helped him, holding the bottom steady while he drank and drank.

  “Thirsty, huh?” she commented when he fell back against the pillows. There was maybe an inch of the tea left in the pitcher. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip as she watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. “Are you sure there isn’t someone I can call… someone who can take care of you?”

  His eyes opened again, but she wasn’t sure he saw her. “No, thank you.”

  That seemed to be his default answer. “Ethan… tea aside, if you’ve damaged something internally…”

  His hand sought hers again, finding it unerringly. “The worst of it is over, I’m sure of it. All I need now is rest.”

  “If you say so,” Cady replied dubiously, continuing to chew on her bottom lip. Besides the stab wound, there were a network of older bruises across his torso, some fresher than others, as though he’d been in multiple fights. Who was this man? All at once she remembered the stab wound through his other hand, and muttered few choice curse words.

  “What is it, what’s wrong?” His head lifted off the pillow.

  “No, shhh, relax. I just realized we forgot to do something about your hand. That’s got to be at least as bad as this wound.” Maybe worse. The knife had gone completely through the center of his palm.

  “It’s fine.” He made a fist around the strip of bandage he’d already tied there, dropping it out of her reach.

  “It can’t be fine, you completely skewered it. Let me see your hand.”

  Ethan held the hand away stubbornly, meeting her gaze, exhaustion warring with stubbornness. “It’s fine.”

  “Alright, it’s fine,” she allowed, giving up. “Don’t blame me if your hand turns all gangreney and diseased and you have to have it cut off.” She picked up the remnants of the medical supplies tossing them into the plastic container. “What do I know, I’m just the person who patched you back together again.”

  “It’ll be fine.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice this time, and when she looked up at him, the remainder of a smile tilted his lips, though his eyes slid shut again. Watching him with his eyes closed, Cady took the opportunity to study him, now that she wasn’t scrambling to take care of him.

  Obviously he took care of himself, as there wasn’t a spare ounce on him. His chest was broad and well muscled, tapering to the ridges of a toned abdomen, a light dusting of golden hair trailing from his navel and disappearing into the top of his jeans. His arms and shoulders bulged with quiet strength, even in repose, and the cut of his jaw was lean under the facial scruff. He was older than she was, at least twenty five or six, but that was the usual for guys she ended up meeting in clubs. Had she thought before he wasn’t conventionally handsome? He wasn’t the pretty boy type, but there was something about him. Overall, not bad… not bad at all.

  His bed was a sticky mess of drying blood and tea, his skin worse. She thought about cleaning him up better, but decided to let him get the rest he so badly needed. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she rose from the bed, but his hand chased after her, calling her back.

  “What is it? Do you need something?” she asked softly, when he didn’t speak at first.

  “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

  “Me?” Cady blinked in surprise that he’d be worried about her with how messed up he was. “No, I’m fine. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping without nightmares for a while, but yeah, all things considered, I’m okay.”

  “Good.” He relaxed, grip loosening, his voice becoming lighter, floating. “Good.”

  Lips curving into a soft smile, Cady held onto his hand a bit longer. “I’m glad you’re okay too,” she replied, watching him drift off.

  Chapter Six

  Revenge.

  Asherik drifted, little more than his need for revenge keeping him tethered to reality. In brighter times he’d lost himself for years in this state -- floating, buffeted by unseen winds. Time usually held little meaning
in the formless space, but he was aware of the press of time now, the need to return to the realm of the physical. Only through the physical world could he exact his revenge on the reaper. Only through the physical world could he finish what he had started. But he was not limited to the physical world.

  Oh no.

  There were other pleasures to be enjoyed in his current state. There were ways to gather his strength, to prepare for the taking of another human form. The dreamstate bridged the gap between the physical and the void, and he sought it now, hardly caring whose dreams he invaded. Later, when he had absorbed enough power, he would seek her out. Not a quick death, not an easy one. Her suffering would be the key to his renewed vigor and he would destroy the reaper once and for all.

  There would be no stopping him.

  Ash had only to appear and the lovely miss whose dream he invaded came into his arms with a sigh of longing. Her passion fed his weakened state, her fear fed his need. It wouldn’t be long and he could return to the physical world. The thought made him smile against pallid skin, surprisingly tender for a change. Instead of pain he brought bliss in his wake, and to his astonishment, it fed him just as well as terror.

  Slipping away, he sought another, and another, his hunger knowing no bounds until Ash felt the power crackling all around him, waiting and ready for him to take form. Revenge waited for him like a bright, shining thing, only wanting for him to choose a new body.

  So why did he float now and dream of chasing long, auburn hair?

  * * *

  Cady sat holding his hand until she was sure he was good and out, not wanting to disturb his rest. Ethan didn’t so much as twitch when she got up though, dead to the world for all intents and purposes. Moving through the room slowly, she cleaned up the mess of bloody towels and gauze, watching him carefully, but Ethan didn’t budge.

  There was a sort of weariness that had seeped into her bones, but Cady didn’t think she could sleep. Instead she tossed the bloody mess into the tub and rinsed them out as best she could, though she didn’t think the fluffy towels would ever be white again. Only when she straightened and noticed the smear of blood on the outside of the tub did she remember that she was covered in the stuff herself.

  The bathroom mirror was covered by a white rectangle of cloth she hadn’t noticed before in her haste, but she pulled it free now, staring at herself in the mirror.

  What a mess.

  Her hands were scrubbed clean, and she’d gotten her arms free of the blood while rinsing the towels, but the rest of her looked like she’d barely survived a chainsaw massacre. She’d had her shoulder under Ethan’s propping him up on the way to the car, and that entire side was smeared with his blood. Her hair was matted and clumped in places too, and her clothes were completely stained. The cut across her collarbone looked angry and raw, liberally smeared with more blood. Hers? Claudio’s? Ethan’s? Whose blood, she had no idea.

  Grabbing a wash cloth, she dabbed at it carefully, wincing as it stung the more she probed at it. Once it was reasonably clean, the wound started to ooze again, and Cady stared at it, worried about infection. Chewing on her lip, she decided to try and wash it out with the tea, figuring it couldn’t hurt. Padding quietly into the bedroom, she picked up the pitcher, and as an afterthought, carefully eased open a couple of his drawers, borrowing a t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts.

  Stripping down to her panties, she considered hopping into the shower, but she was afraid it might wake him, and it was weird to think about showering in a complete stranger’s bathroom. Though, was Ethan really a stranger anymore? Cady didn’t think so.

  She never once considered going home to change into her own clothes. Sticking around seemed like the right thing to do; Ethan might need her help at any moment. Instead, she cleaned up over the bathroom sink, rinsing out her hair, and winding it up out of the way in a messy bun. The tea stung like a bastard on the open wound, and she gaped at herself in the mirror, biting her lip to keep from swearing out loud. How could Ethan stand it? The pain faded after a few minutes, and she covered the deep scratch with a couple of bandaids.

  Deciding she could use a drink herself, she took a sip of the remaining tea, grimacing at the bitter taste. “Ugh, what kind of tea is this?” she muttered. How did he drink the stuff? Rinsing her mouth out with water from the tap, the bitter taste lingered, and her mouth felt… funny. Were her lips numb? It was probably her imagination, because the effect quickly vanished, and she felt no worse for wear.

  A quick glance at her phone showed a text from Penny declaring she’d arrived home safe and sound. It was just after midnight; she still had a couple of hours before Ian came home and wondered where she was. Time enough to wash out her clothes and hang them up to dry in his bathroom. She thought the blank tank top might survive, but the jeans were hopelessly ruined unless she soaked them in more blood to even out the color. Ick.

  Done scrubbing for the moment, she ventured out into the rest of his apartment, satisfying her curiosity about the man. Though the layout was identical to hers, with the same scarred hardwoods, cheap linoleum and the tiny appliances, that’s where the similarity ended. Where the apartment Cady shared with her brother was overflowing with clutter, magazines, half finished craft projects mixed in with Ian’s books, and movie posters fighting for available wall space, Ethan’s place was minimalist by comparison.

  The walls were completely bare, as were all the surfaces, even the battered coffee table. A quick peek in the kitchen cupboards showed very little in the way of cookware, and only two plates, two bowls, a handful of silverware. It was a bachelor kitchen to the extreme, utilitarian, with little more than a can opener and a spatula in the drawers. The fridge held two more pitchers of tea and sandwich fixings, the usual condiments, and an old Styrofoam container of Mexican food, past its prime.

  There were no spices in the cupboards, nothing to indicate he knew how to cook at all, but plenty of snack foods in the small pantry, and the freezer was packed with frozen meals. The good stuff. Marie Callenders, pizza… the stuff Cady only got to buy when it was on sale. Her fingers traced over the carton of Ben & Jerry’s Fudge Brownie she found in the freezer door, but she wasn’t all that hungry, not really.

  A worn leather couch and flat screen TV dominated the living room, two extra bookshelves flanking the custom built entertainment center. Crammed on each shelf were DVD cases for movies of every conceivable genre.

  “Jackpot,” she murmured. Cady loved movies. Loved them. She went every chance she got, which unfortunately, wasn’t all that often. Her own movie collection was much smaller, and she hated having to wait for DVD’s to hit the bargain bin before she could snap them up. Ian had reduced their Netflix account to streaming only when his hours got cut at work, and it killed her to miss out on all the new releases.

  Plucking out the new Bourne flick, she popped it into the DVD player and settled back to watch the movie with the sound turned low. Two hours later, she rose with a stretch and went to check on her patient. Ethan looked like he hadn’t moved an inch since she’d left him, and for one fleeting moment, she froze in fear until she saw the slight rise and fall of his chest. Worried he might be feverish, she gently laid a hand to his brow, but he wasn’t overly warm.

  Ethan didn’t stir at all at the touch, nor when she gently tugged his boots off. Once she had the boots free, his socks followed, and then she thought he might be more comfortable if he wasn’t wearing his jeans. Watching him closely, she carefully undid his pants, and he didn’t raise any objection as she inched them down his legs.

  Not bad at all…

  Catching herself ogling the man in his skivvies, she briefly considered removing the boxer briefs as well, they were blood stained after all, but decided that might be pushing things too far. Instead, she found a blanket in the hall closet and covered him with it.

  Briefly, she considered lying down beside him to catch forty winks herself, but decided against it. She had to think about going home soon or Ian would go
ballistic. But Cady didn’t want to leave yet. She wanted to be there when Ethan woke up, there were too many questions brewing in the back of her mind after the night’s events.

  Settling onto the couch, she put the movie on again, this time with the director’s commentary, but her own thoughts soon overran the muted voices on the screen.

  What was the deal between Ethan and Claudio? What was with the weird chanting and stabbing his own hand? Why had he followed them in the first place? And why had Ethan been so afraid Claudio might come back?

  Without realizing it, Cady drifted off to sleep, dreaming of dark eyes, and a whispered voice at her ear, murmuring things she couldn’t quite catch. It was a fitful rest and she startled awake, the display on the screen reading twenty minutes past six a.m. -- Ian was going to flip his shit.

  Checking her phone, Cady saw she had a half dozen texts from him and two missed calls, but it was too late (or early, depending on how you looked at it) for her to risk waking him. Besides, the damage was done. More than likely he was passed out asleep and she could get her ass handed back to her later. Much later.

  A quick peek into Ethan’s bedroom found him sprawled with one arm thrown over his eyes, and she realized she’d left the lights on. She flipped them off now, but with the sky already growing lighter, it didn’t make much difference. Feeling hung over, she padded into the bathroom, blinking at her ashy complexion revealed in stark detail under the harsh overhead light.

  “Sexy,” she grimaced, rubbing the crust of sleep away from her eyes. Leaning over to wash her face, she had to dry it on her borrowed t-shirt, she’d used up all the towels the night before. Cady’s eyes looked perkier once she was finished, but her overall pallor was… wrong. As if she’d hadn’t been sunbathing on the roof every chance she got. It went with the pounding headache though, and she reached down to look under the cabinet for Tylenol or Advil, something to chase away the blahs.