The Shadow: The Original's Trilogy

by Cara Crescent

  “Right? He looks so fit and healthy it’s easy to forget he’s a fucking antique.” He laughed. “He wanted me to bring him into the tech age in exchange for instruction on fighting and splitting.”

  “Seriously?”

  Harry glanced over his shoulder before leaning closer and whispering, “You should’ve seen the closet full of electronic corpses he had. Computers with all the peripherals, killer spy gear gadgets, surround sound, gaming consoles. We’re talking tens of thousands of British pounds worth of stuff. A total kid’s fantasy—” He put his hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. “He wanted to use that stuff so damn bad. Had techie magazines and ‘how to’ books and he was completely fucking inept. The noob destroyed half the devices pulling them apart to try to, and I quote, ‘Fix the soddin’ rubbish.’”

  She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  “I swear his office rivals the command center at NASA. He’s got our entire goddamn neighborhood wired.” His step faltered. “I mean, he did . . . man, I still can’t believe it’s all gone. That was his sanctuary.” He kicked at a rock in their path.

  Somehow, she’d find a way to replace it all. They wouldn’t have lost everything if it weren’t for her. “What’s he like as a teacher?”

  Harry shrugged. “He wouldn’t accept less than my best. He’s not even a splitter, but he researched my talent and worked with me until I mastered it. Taught me to box, use a knife, a gun. Taught me everything he knows. Still, he won’t let me fight.”

  “Why?”

  He faced her, holding his thin arms out while they walked. “I have no muscle, no weight to put behind my moves. He’s been promising me for ages he’d find a way to get me close to the Council. Hell, he’s dying for a chance at Leopold, but he won’t. Not because he can’t. Not because he wouldn’t win. Because I’d be a liability.”

  She hated to admit it, but Duncan was right. Even with skill, Harry was too small to be much of a threat to anyone. “He’ll rescind his promise to get you close to the Council?”

  “No, he’ll stall until he figures out a way for me to get revenge in as fair a fight as possible, which might take eons.”

  Pounding footsteps made her look back.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” Duncan ran past, moving faster than she’d expect for such a big guy. Her gaze followed, watching the flex of his bum. Stop it! She looked up and froze.

  Thirty or so daemons—human-looking for the most part—approached, weapons drawn. A militia.

  Chapter 28

  Duncan came to a stop. “That’s far enough.”

  One of the daemons came forward out of the pack. A blond male and while sturdy and muscular, he had nothing on Duncan’s size. “We’ve come for the female.” His gaze shifted past Duncan and locked onto hers. He could see her. They all could. Augustina’s words came back to her: Your people will see you. They will know you.

  “She’s mine.”

  A little thrill went through her and she tamped it down. He wasn’t claiming her, just saying they couldn’t have her.

  “Listen to the foreigner, Levi.”

  Trina’s gaze swung to her right. Shit. Another, even larger, militia stood there—close to a hundred daemons. And this crew looked like daemons. The leader—the one who had spoken—had deep blue skin with thick black tribal tattoos covering most of his chest and arms. Horns. Barbed tails.

  “Holy hell,” Harry whispered. He grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him.

  “I can see over your head, twerp.”

  “Stay put.”

  Duncan backed up a few steps, angling himself to keep both groups in sight. “Telling you what I told him, mate. She’s with me and she’s staying with me.” If he were closer, she’d spell-travel them out of here.

  The blue giant stared her way. Bowed his head slightly which made the little silver hoops hanging from his left horn wink in the moonlight.

  Levi shouted. He ran forward, drawing his sword. So did his men.

  She grabbed Harry’s shoulders. “Who the hell has swords nowadays?”

  “Them.”

  Duncan bent his knees. Spread his arms, his little six-inch knife gripped in one hand as if that would help.

  The blue giant drew a sword as well, his men following his cry as he ran toward the rest.

  “This is bullshit.” She stepped around Harry and swept her arm out in front of her, letting her Magic change the consistency of the dry, cracked ground.

  Both militias stumbled as their feet stuck.

  Their boots sank with their next steps. Shouts and curses punctuated their struggles.

  Harry elbowed her. “Nice.”

  Slowly, they began to sink.

  Duncan twisted around, pinning her with a glare. “You serious?” He wasn’t sinking quite as fast as the others; he had the sense not to struggle.

  She shrugged. “You were in the way.”

  He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned to the Levi, his tone dripping sarcasm. “You still want the female?”

  Levi spit. “She’ll be our prisoner. We’re not allowing her to leave again, not now we’ve gotten our Magic back.”

  She eased closer to better hear them. “I’m not leaving. I’m here to stay.”

  The blue giant grinned. “Most welcome you are to do so, Gasan. I’m Dumuzid.” He said it again, slower. “Doom-oo-zid. My friends call me Doom.”

  “You call her your queen already?” Levi waved his arm at Doom. “You’re going to trust her again? You saw what she did!”

  “With the permission of all our leaders.” Doom pointed at Levi. “Does Meneus know what you’re doing?”

  Levi struggled harder to get his feet free. “He’ll be hanging off the end of my sword along with the rest of you bastards.”

  Her attention wavered between the two groups. Despite his appearance, she liked Doom. He’d bowed his head to her—not a lot, but enough to get the point across. “Am I your friend, Doom?”

  He smiled wide enough to flash his fangs. “I do hope so, Gasan.” She couldn’t place his accent, almost middle-eastern but not quite.

  “Where were you from? Originally?”

  “Sumeria.” He’d sunken down to his waist and lifted his arms to keep them out of the muck. “And you?”

  “Washington.”

  His brows drew together. “Never heard of it.”

  “Duchess, we’re all sinking here while you’re chatting up your new friend.”

  Her gaze shot to his, took in his bored expression. “What do you want me to do with them all?”

  “No more half-measures.”

  No half-measures. Shit. If she let Levi and his group go, they’d cause havoc forever. Sounded like they’d been doing so since she’d last been here. So what did she do with them?

  Harry came up behind her, whispered, “Before the good guys can’t breathe anymore, Lopez.”

  Levi made the decision for her. He lifted his sword, cocked his arm back as if he intended to throw it like a spear, his gaze focused on Duncan.

  She mouthed, wish you dead. Didn’t think about it. Didn’t consider the ramifications. She couldn’t allow him to hurt Duncan.

  Levi’s whole body seized. The sword dropped from his hand and sank into the spongy ground. He clawed at his face. His throat. Blood leaked from his eyes and nose as he began to convulse.

  Seconds later, he died.

  Her stomach twisted. He was dead. She’d judged him after knowing him a few moments and she still had the others to deal with. Her gaze shifted to Duncan. He still appeared bored as hell.

  She turned her attention to Levi’s men. Her Magic hadn’t affected them. She’d performed her spell, directed her Magic to her target, and it had stayed focused where she wanted it. Goddess be praised, Kasdeja had been right. Now that she’d taken off the necklace or maybe because she was in Machon or maybe because of both, her Magic was working properly again.

  Maybe using her Magic to kill would never be necessa
ry again. Maybe if she released Levi’s men, let them spread the word that she’d returned and planned to stay, it would settle this particular grievance. “Do you want the same fate?”

  A chorus of “No” went up. They dropped their weapons.

  “I’m here to stay and anyone who doesn’t support me is my enemy. Spread the word.” She nodded to herself. That sounded good, right? Authoritative. Bad-ass. Now if she could stop shaking she’d be doing okay.

  Duncan had sunk to his chin in muck. One dark brow raised.

  Shit. Now she had to get them out of the ground. Using her Magic, she started at the bottom and made the particles denser so it’d push them back up to the top. Her heart leapt a bit in her chest when Duncan lifted up. She had control of her Magic again. Granted, she needed to be patient and test it again to make sure, but if she didn’t have any more problems, all that remained between her and Duncan was the spell she’d tattooed on her arm. I will never belong to any man.

  Could the coven reverse that spell? Maybe in time they could be together. “This is good. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

  Harry leaned toward her. “Uh, Lopez, the more bored he looks, the more pissed he is. I’ve only seen that particular expression once.”

  She continued the spell, taking care to make sure everyone came up together as she hardened the ground under them. If that was the case, Duncan was pissed as fuck. “What’d you do?” She glanced at Harry. “When you saw that expression last.”

  “I shocked myself trying to make a Taser out of his electronics.” He leaned closer. “And he got that look as soon as you started crying.”

  She turned and wiped away the evidence. She hadn’t realized. . . . “I’m fine.”

  “Sure. But you don’t have to convince me.”

  Duncan pulled himself free of the last few inches. Headed straight for her. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. Next time you let me take care of it.”

  “I’m fine, damn it. The message needed to be sent. We’ll be safer for it.”

  He raised his hand as if to touch her cheek, but dirt covered him. His hand fisted and he lowered it. “You did good.”

  She bit her lip. “Remember what you said about precipitating evil since we were daemons?” When he nodded, she added, “I think you were right.”

  “No. Some people choose to walk in the Darkness and some are forced to it. For a long while, I chose my path in the choices I made, in the way I thought. Eventually, I cleaned myself up. Figured out who I wanted to be and took the steps I needed to get there. But here’s the thing. The Darkness, whether forced on you or chosen, it never lets you go. I fought it. I resisted it. I did everything I could think of to chase it away, but it clings. And eventually, I found out why.”

  She stared, waiting, but he didn’t seem inclined to explain. “Well?”

  Harry snorted. “He ain’t gonna tell you.”

  Duncan grinned. “When you think you’ve got it figured out, Duchess, let me know. And I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

  Not good enough. She wanted to know now, damn him. She opened her mouth to argue, but Doom cleared his throat as he approached. “If it pleases you, Gasan, I’ll show you the way home.”

  Duncan turned. “How do we know we can trust you?”

  “I’ve known Satrina through many of her lives.” His attention returned to her. “The leaders of the thirteen clans have remained loyal to you and Lilith.”

  She touched Duncan’s arm. “Between the three of us—”

  George swatted at her hair from his perch on Harry’s shoulder.

  “—I mean, four of us, we can handle them if they try anything.”

  “Ah.” Doom nodded toward Harry. “I see you have a protector, little one.”

  Harry opened his mouth, no doubt to put the daemon in his place, but both Duncan and Trina lifted their hands to stay him. “What is it?” Trina asked.

  “A minion. They have been standing guard at the bloodtrees, waiting for children to come back to Machon.”

  “That one came with us . . . except it looked like a cat back home.”

  Doom smiled. “They have good camouflage when they think it’s in their best interest to use it.” He motioned in the direction he’d come from. “Should we go?”

  Well, if she was supposed to be queen here, she better get her act together. She looked over Doom one more time, measuring the colors of his aura. He had darker hues like Duncan, but she didn’t see anything that indicated any malice or deceit toward them. Besides, Kasdeja said she’d find allies here. She nodded. Walked to Doom’s side and craned her neck back to look him in the eyes. “There are thirteen clans?”

  “The main clans, yes.” They started walking toward his men. “There are others, but they’re rogue clans. They don’t participate in the Grand Council, nor have they guarded your home while you’ve been away.”

  “Duchess.” Duncan’s tone was full of warning.

  She waved her hand behind her back. This wasn’t the time for his over-protectiveness. She smiled at Doom. “My home?”

  “The Citadel.” He offered her his arm by holding his elbow out to the side.

  She took it, looping her arm with his. “We need a copy of the Black Book of Daemonology. I need to find a summoning spell.”

  “Ah, there’s a copy in the great hall. Anything else you may need will be in your library.” He strolled her through his men and each tipped his head to her as he passed, but Duncan’s gaze at her back, raising the hair on her nape, held her attention. She felt Duncan there. The invisible thread linking them thrummed with tension.

  When they reached the highest part of the hill, she gasped. A walled city sprawled below. Houses had been stacked with the precision of a toddler stacking blocks and at the highest part of the hill, a castle towered over it all. A freaking castle.

  Doom grinned. “Your home. The Citadel.”

  *****

  Just. Fucking. Perfect.

  Who has a house? Not him. His house was ash.

  Who was the handsome bastard with his woman on his arm? Again, not him.

  Who failed to protect her from doing what he damned well knew she didn’t ever want to do? Oh, right. That would be him. Fuck.

  The farther ahead she walked, the more he felt her. That crazy sense they were linked, somehow strung together, intensified. As did the need to go over there and remind her she belonged to him.

  Harry smacked him in the arm and sent a pointed look toward Doom and Trina.

  “Relax, pup.”

  “You need to quit acting like her bodyguard.”

  “I am her bodyguard.”

  “You’re her mate.” Harry brushed his hair out of his face. “Every time you tell her to stick close, or that you’ll protect her, or any of that shit, she brushes you off.”

  Was that true? He tried to think back over the last several days.

  “I mean, really, D, does she need your protection?” George had his front paws on Harry’s head, those inky eyes watching his every move. “Quit living in the dark ages. Get some perspective.”

  He shot Harry a side-long glance. She had to need him, damn it. He didn’t have fuck-all else to offer her.

  From a distance, this hadn’t looked like more than a shanty town, the way the square houses were stacked haphazardly on top of one another. This wasn’t a slum, though. The homes were larger than he first thought, one story built of a glossy black brick. The way they were designed—each turned slightly and stacked above—provided a private entrance for each. The staircases leading up to the homes arched up gracefully, ending in long porches. Blue light radiated from the windows of most of the homes, though some remained dark. Even the paved streets appeared freshly laid, with none of the unevenness or potholes he’d grown used to in London.

  He cleared his throat. “How does the town support itself?”

  Doom glanced back. “We’re a small community. We have very few needs. The bloodtrees provide food, the mountains provide building materia
ls. Some sell services in exchange for favors. Some hire themselves to settle disputes among the thirteen clans. Some choose to work at the Citadel for favors.”

  Doom led them straight through the center of the town, right up the monstrosity sitting in the middle of it all. From a distance, he’d thought the castle sat on a hill, the way the houses rose in increments, but the ground was level. The Citadel was massive. Made of the same black stone as the other buildings, spires and arches pointed toward the sky like swords. Carvings of cloaked beings, horned creatures, and winged gargoyles decorated the outer arches over doors that rose stories high. Giants could’ve walked through those doors without bowing their heads. Doom opened them with a slight push.

  Inside, flying buttresses arched far overhead, curving down in pillars that stopped two-meters off the floor in upside-down obelisks. Wrought-iron chains dangled from the points holding bowls of blue fire. The great hall went on forever—must’ve been longer than a football pitch. Between each of the obelisk points the hall widened into vestibules on either side with wide rooms containing wall-to-wall books, the floors covered in thick rugs.

  Doom waved to the left. “Historically, the coven has shared with any who brave entering these halls. Once word gets out you are here, daemons will come to pay homage, to ask favors, or with the hope you’ll settle disputes.”

  “Anyone can walk in here?” He didn’t like that.

  “The Citadel is protected with Magic. Alarms will sound if anyone enters with the intention to harm the gasan. Visitors are only permitted on the first floor. The rest of the building is private.”

  Not all the vestibules held libraries. Some appeared set up for potions—dried herbs hung from the rafters, bottles and jars lined the walls. A cauldron sat in the center. A large labyrinth took up the floor of another—the daemon walking the path cut into the stone floor didn’t even glance up at them.

  Harry nudged him with his elbow. Pointed up.

  Midway between the highest buttresses and where they stood, narrow stone bridges crisscrossed the empty space. Dangling from one, a pentacle spun on a black chain, throwing off the reflected light from the blue-flamed fires.

  Doom noticed where they were staring. “Don’t worry, the bridges are for those who work here. Your quarters are above.”