Shadow Hunt

CHAPTER 6



Ellie wouldn’t wake. Whatever drug they’d used to knock her out had been strong. It didn’t help that they’d thrown her unconscious body on the floor of their suite before locking them in. She had a bump the size of a walnut forming on her forehead. Cam had tucked her in bed, but the pallor of her skin had him very worried.

He paced. Of course they would knock her out. They’d figured out that the only way to stop the shadow was to incapacitate Ellie. Cam had once been forced to do the same, though he’d used even more drastic means.

Anyone could see the separation between Ellie and her shadow, and know the latter for the impulsive, id-born part of Ellie, while she herself was analytical, reasonable, even-tempered. Strong emotion was the one thing that united the two parts. Only someone who’d watched how the shadow worked would understand the key to defeating it.

The Martins had studied Ellie. They’d taken the lessons at the Seminary to heart and had used them to distract the shadow with Slight. No direct attack would work. Strike at Ellie herself, and the shadow would self-defend. But distract the shadow with blinding emotions like grief and bloodlust, and Ellie was left defenseless.

Two days and the Martins had rendered Ellie vulnerable.

Had they made their point? Would they let them go?

The day wore on. Light was overtaken.

Cam’s eyes burned with exhaustion. His brain felt heavy and sluggish from the work of dividing this world from the Shadowy one that was always in sight. Dark shapes moved in and out of his vision, but he tried to ignore them. He was losing his mind, the one part of himself he trusted, and at the worst possible time.

Ellie would not wake. That alone was enough to drive him crazy.

A rattle at the door had Cam surging upward from his seat next to the bed. He was ready to fight, sticky with sweat in one flash of adrenaline.

But it was that other mage, Zander, who entered. “I hear the party’s in here tonight, though it looks like”—he glanced around—“I’m early.”

Cam felt ill. Ellie.

Zander closed the door behind him, his expression lit with humor. “Been an exciting day.”

Cam smelled the stink of his own fear. He didn’t care what they did with him. But, oh, God—

“Willa sends her apologies. She can’t come tonight as she’s not feeling well, nor will be for a long time, I’m afraid.”

Gunnar and Mathilde must have found out about their little talk yesterday after dinner.

Cam had to know. “What did you do to her?”

“Me?” Zander put a hand to his chest. “Nothing. Mathilde, on the other hand, thought that Willa should become personally acquainted with the Shadow knife she discussed with you.”

“Willa was loyal to the House,” Cam said in a too late defense.

“Willa gave you the means-by-information to kill Martin’s heir.” Zander looked pained for a moment, then laughed in mock sadness. “So close! I’m second, you know.”

“Second what?”

“Second in line to inherit,” Zander said. “I’ve been a student here all my life, fostered from childhood. At first Martin was concerned that a girl could not do what was necessary to hold the House. Then he got to know his daughter.”

Cam thought of his gun, which he’d tucked under Ellie’s pillow. One reach, covered by a tender caress, and he’d be armed. He’d decided not to have it in hand when someone came in, didn’t want to initiate a bloodbath if there was any hope of Ellie getting out alive. Just Ellie. They could do what they liked with him.

“I feel that I owe you something for trying at least.” Zander stalked to the window and looked out.

“Owe me?” Cam’s brain was still moving too slowly.

“I don’t like debts, and thanks to your very foolish move earlier at the Seminary, I almost became heir to this great House.”

Zander turned, the moonlight making one half of his face look gaunt. “Mathilde’s a peach, isn’t she?”

“Lovely woman,” Cam replied.

“She’ll be here shortly, the new Martin in tow. I believe she has a welcome gift for him in mind.”

The new Mar—? Oh. Slight.

“Greatmage and High Seat of the Council Kaye Brand sponsored our visit here.” Did they fear Brand? Could she save them? Could her name alone save them?

“Brand will be here tomorrow. Too late. And no human death can be put before the Council for discipline, unless it involves the safety of greater magekind. Further, Gunnar believes that Brand will have no choice but to overlook the events here because he feels she needs Martin House. Or will need Martin House. Brand didn’t get where she is by being stupid.”

“She won’t ally herself with Martin House if anything happens to us,” Cam said. Adam would not do business with someone who would. “I promise you that.”

Zander shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It will be too late for you, and a lesson learned in hindsight by Gunnar.”

Cam had nothing to say to that. His vocal chords were tied with frustration. Was there no way out?

Zander’s eyes softened somewhat. “The Segue trained you to fight, did it not?”

“Yes.” That’s right. Cam could still fight. And he would.

“Do they teach you how to die?”

Cam gritted his teeth.

Zander sighed, glancing toward the door, as if he sensed someone’s approach. “At the Seminary we are taught how to die. How we are expected to die, that is. For us, it is a final thing that crushes us out of existence.”

Cam noted that the Shadow in the room began to churn. Yes, they were coming.

“The only way you can beat her now is to die strong,” Zander said. “Do not give her the satisfaction of breaking your spirit.” He glanced over at Ellie’s sleeping form. “Though Mathilde certainly has the means to do so.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Cam ground out. Voices murmured on the other side of the door.

“I already told you,” Zander said. “I don’t like debts. It was an almost success for me today; and now an almost victory for you. We’re even.”





Ellie was wrenched into wakefulness, as if pulled face-first through a plate of glass. She gasped at the pain of it, while attempting to assemble the shards of her consciousness.

Cam, at her bedside, gun in hand. The barrel was alight with sparks, bullet frozen midair by magic.

Mathilde held her shadow in thrall at the foot of the bed. Ellie’s shadow self was on her back, arching, legs spread, so Ellie could guess what was in store.

Slight had a hand possessively on the shadow’s thigh.

“Took you long enough to join us,” Mathilde said to Ellie. “Must have hit your head very hard. We are picking up where we left off this morning at the Seminary when my lesson was so rudely interrupted by Dr. Kalamos. This is what he fears so much, isn’t it?” She smiled. “So this has to be what will break him.”

The horror of the scene came suddenly, cruelly together. Her shadow was hot and bothered. But the fear and awfulness of what was about to happen were muted by the fact that she and her shadow were not in union. She would watch what was to come . . . somewhat dispassionately. And maybe that’s the way she’d survive it.

As Mathilde intended, Cam was far from dispassionate, and even to Ellie’s eye, he telegraphed his intent. He roared and launched himself at Slight, who’d started to lean over her dark self. The gun and wayward bullet both fell to the floor.

Slight moved deftly into a turn and got Cam into a choke hold, that black knife, full of death, now at her beloved’s throat.

“Hold on,” Mathilde said to Slight. “I want to try something.”

That’s when Ellie noticed the other mage, Zander, from dinner last night, watching the scene play out from a chair by the flickering fireplace.

Mathilde approached Cam, who strained in Slight’s grasp. “It’s not just Ellie’s shadow that I can hold and control. I can do the same to any human; I just haven’t had the chance yet to give you a try.”

Again that melodic voice, upbeat and happy.

Ellie slowly backed her way off the bed, as if afraid and attempting to run away. Likewise, no one seemed to consider her a threat. Next to her primal shadow, Ellie was often overlooked and underestimated.

Mathilde held up a hand toward Cam, and Ellie could see the air move as Mathilde’s magic reached out to him.

Ellie slid along the wall until she approached the fire. That mage Zander was close enough to stop her, so she’d have to kill him first. Then go for Mathilde, while Cam grappled with Slight. The decisions before her laid themselves out like a neat path of stones. She was glad she was not encumbered by her too strong, too emotional shadow. Some things were best undertaken by reason.

First, a weapon. She felt behind her, just at the back of her leg, her body blocking her actions. She had to bend a little, so she hoped that Zander was too interested in the much more exciting sights near the bed—her shadow’s open crotch, for example, or the magic that Mathilde was attempting to inflict on Cam.

“You are mine,” Mathilde said to Cam.

“I am yours,” Cam said.

Mathilde made a face. “I can tell you’re faking.” She looked over at Zander—Ellie froze—and complained, “He’s faking. It’s that Shadow within him. Won’t let me get a good hold on his soul. You’ll have to restrain him while Slight screws the shadow.”

Ellie grasped a handle in the fireplace tool set and tightened her grip on it.

“Sweet cousin,” Zander said, distracted as Ellie had hoped, “Slight may be House now, and I will accord him the benefits his new station deserves. However, restraining the fiancé of the woman he intends to f*ck is not one of them. I’ll watch from here, thank you.”

“Now you get prudish?” Mathilde laughed. “Should I remind you—?”

“I remember our time together very fondly,” Zander said.

Mathilde turned her attention back to Slight. “We’ll have to tie him up.”

Ellie dragged her gaze over to Zander to pinpoint his position and to see if he was in any way alerted to the fact that she was about to crush his skull.

She found him closer than she’d anticipated. He had a slight smile on his face, an eyebrow raised as he met her gaze. Oh, shit, he knows.

He leaned forward, reaching behind her, and bumped her hand with another handle.

Ellie looked down. She’d grabbed the fireplace broom.

He was handing her the poker.





Cam felt his mind coming apart; he’d been fighting it for a while, but the sensation had gotten worse in Martin House. There was too much Shadow here; he couldn’t think. Creatures moved in and out of his vision. His heart was wild with fear and dread and sickness on behalf of Ellie.

He was sliding into madness, a dark shroud overcoming his thoughts. He didn’t know what he was becoming—a monster, certainly. He didn’t know how much control he had.

Slight was attempting to haul him backward, to one of the free chairs, where they would tie him up. And then what?

Rather than think of the answer, Cam’s mind slipped, darkness and Shadow rushing him. He let go of himself, and let Shadow clobber him. Again, he witnessed the eddies and devils of magic that precluded a spell or an attack.

Cam twisted his wrist, broke Slight’s hold, and disarmed his attacker. The black blade dropped, spinning to the floor. It was too easy.

Mathilde.

Cam turned to murder the bitch who dared touch Ellie’s soul.

But Ellie was there before him, shoving a brass poker into Mathilde’s chest.

“You forget,” Ellie said into Mathilde’s shocked eyes. “I come in two parts. And both of them are deadly.”

The shadow, released from its thrall, took on the radiance of its diamond-flecked skin again. It gleamed with beauty and magic and power as it stood, strode through the flesh-and-bone Ellie, and rammed the poker into Mathilde to the hilt.

Mathilde’s knees gave way, and she fell forward onto the floor. Gunnar Martin’s daughter and heir. Yeah, well, they were all going to die anyway.

Cam watched as the shadow turned, intent on Slight, who’d backed into the center of the room. That other mage, Zander, had a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

He’d been second in line for Martin House, and now was first. Another debt to be paid. This time, a big one.

Ellie’s shadow prowled forward, the sinuous lines of its body priming to strike, but Ellie held it back. Cam looked over, wondering why.

“You’re up,” Ellie said.

Oh. I’m supposed to kill now.

Cam saw the Shadowy waterfall rush of Slight’s dive for the black knife. Saw the arc he’d take upon standing to slice at Cam’s throat. The Shadow swirl of a spin. A cloudburst of a kick. Cam saw it all.

He avoided the blade of the knife and struck at Slight’s breastbone, which shattered, the mage’s heart sending weak vibrations into Shadow as he fell to the floor.

Cam looked sadly over at Ellie, who was now witnessing what he’d become: a monster of Shadow, the kind Segue fought.

Then he turned back to Slight, taking hold of the back of his head and his jaw, and broke the bastard’s neck.

An ocean of magic poured down on Cam so that he couldn’t breathe and didn’t want to, not anymore. All of his senses were buffeted by a storm of nightmares and uncertainty. Shadow had taken over his soul and left a bloodthirsty thing in its place.

A woman knelt by his side and dared to put a hand on his back.

She had no idea of her danger. No idea how thin her life had become.

“Hello, shadow Cam,” she said softly. “Let Zander go free. There’s nothing more to do here. Let go, sweetheart. Be mine again.”