Shadows of Fate (Shadow Born) (4 page)

She turned to Marissa. “I like him. We should keep him.” With those words of wisdom, she disappeared.

“Nice ghost.” Gray moved closer to Marissa. “Do I need to fill out an application?”

Marissa smiled. “Brenna vouched for you, which takes care of the front end of the process. All you have to do now is survive the night.”

Gray remained silent, arms crossed and the beginnings of a frown playing across his forehead. The moments ticked away like dead weight.

“Survive the night?” he finally asked. “What does that mean?”

“If I told you, it would be too easy.” She drew a long silver key from inside her pocket and tossed it to Brenna. “Follow your friend. She’ll show you to your room. If you’re here in the morning, we’ll talk.” She yawned. “Brenna, he’s all yours.”

“I know.” Brenna had no doubt Gray would prove his worth, but it would still be fun to watch. “Good night.”

Cold key clenched in her hand, Brenna crossed the hall to the staircase, Gray close behind. The heat of his body was distracting. It had been so long since she had been this close to another Shadow Bearer. His blood screamed at her, called to her, made her yearn to taste him. Her chest tightened. It was difficult to breath.

Fighting for control, she led him off the staircase and down the narrow powder blue hall. “The bathroom is at the end of the hallway, but make sure you wear shoes.” She gestured at the worn brown carpet. “There are tacking nails everywhere. It’s Sam’s job to pull them up, but he’s been distracted.”

“How many people live here?”

“Depends on the day. We have several permanents, more just passing through. Right now it’s just the regulars.” She stopped at a whitewashed wooden door, fingers beating a nervous cadence against the doorframe. “Marissa is more like a social worker than a landlord. Everyone here comes from different backgrounds, but we all have one thing in common. We have no one. Nowhere else to go. Most of the residents are criminals or former criminals.”

“Victims of circumstance?” Gray raised an eyebrow. It was an irritating expression, most likely one he had long practiced to get right.

“Not everyone’s life is filled with roses. Marissa tries to teach them some life skills so they can find their way.”

“A noble thought if they’re not too far gone.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

Gray met her glance. “Not in my experience.”

She looked away, and pushed open the door. His lack of compassion had done wonders to dampen her lust. She handed the key to Gray. “Marissa will give you your own when you see her next.”

They stepped inside a moderate sized room. Marissa had just painted the walls a light yellow, but even fresh paint couldn’t hide the crumbling drywall and water stains. A full size bed covered in a yellow and blue quilt was pushed against the largest wall. Above the headboard, narrow wooden planks peeked out from behind the drywall. A walnut hope chest was at the foot of the bed, leaving a narrow path to the closet on the far side of the room. Bright red and yellow paisley curtains were draped across the picture window that covered the side wall, which overlooked what had once been a flourishing courtyard, but now looked more like a graveyard for dead trees.

Brenna sat crossed-legged on the hope chest. “This was my room when I first moved in. It should have everything you need.” She watched Gray look it over then throw his messenger bag and sword scabbard on the rocking chair beside the door.

“Thanks.” He tossed his leather jacket onto the bed. “So if I live through the night, I’m in?”

She shrugged. “Honor among thieves. You have to prove you belong here.” She flicked back a strand of hair. “Earn our trust and it’s yours forever. Screw us over and…” She half-shrugged.

Gray moved toward her, grinning. “So you’re going to leave me?” He leaned forward so their faces were mere inches apart. “What if they eat me in my sleep? What will you tell Seraph?”

“That you put up one hell of a fight. He’ll understand.” Laughing, she gave him her back and left the room. Brenna let out a shaky breath as the door clicked shut. She massaged the back of her neck. Her reaction to Gray was unnerving.

It had been too long since she participated in a proper blood exchange and the power in Gray’s blood created a yearning that was hard to ignore. He was a walking source of magical nourishment.

As she walked down the long corridor to her room, she fought against the memories threatening to swamp her mind. Memories of her world, her people. Memories she had locked away for almost a hundred years.

Throwing open the bedroom door, she stripped out of her sweaty blood covered clothes. They landed across her vanity, knocking over the only picture she had. It was of her, Seraph and Xavier.

She picked up the corset and righted the picture. There were very few people she trusted, but Seraph was one. Seraph knew her secrets, knew there was a reward on her head if she were to cross back into her own world. If Seraph trusted Gray, she supposed she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. No matter how difficult it may be.

Now dressed in a white tank and gray sweat pants, she touched her hands to the floor in front of her, easing the pressure in her back. When her breath stilled and her muscles relaxed, she padded barefoot to the door of her sanctuary. Once a walk-in closet, she had gutted it and made a meditation room. It was one of the only places where she could communicate with her world.

For as long as she could remember, the Council had dictated her every move. In a world torn apart by civil war, the Council was the governing body that kept their world in check. Made up of fourteen members, seven from each clan, they created and enforced the rules of warfare, but punished only the most heinous offenses.

The Council may have forbidden her to physically return, but they could not rob her of all contact with those she loved. Communication had to be done carefully, so as not to alert her father, but it was worth the risk.

The room had been stripped to its barest form. Glistening wooden planks made up the floor, covered only by a golden woven rug. At the far end of the room sat a narrow walnut table. On it lay a gold plated mirror, glazed with age and use, surrounded by numerous white and golden candles. Kneeling before the table, she blew a long breath and fire flickered to life at the tips of each cylinder.

On her knees, she opened a narrow drawer and pulled out a blessed athame. Draped in a crystal covering, infused with sapphires and opals, the blade shone in the candlelight. Chanting the password under her breath, she released the security spell and pulled the blade free.

A smooth slice of the blade across her naked forearm and the power in her blood welled to the surface. She settled cross-legged on the floor, the mirror on her lap. The fear that always hid within her consciousness pushed itself to the forefront and she paused. She fought against herself, her blood spilling from her forearm to fall, wasted, onto the cold floor.

She lifted her arm above the face of the mirror and allowed her blood to fall on the dull surface. As the first drop hit the glass, cold bluish steam lifted from the surface. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fragrant mist, willing the wound on her flesh to seal itself, as though it had never been cut. Power filled the room, playing across her skin and inside her heart, a familiar power that resonated deep within her. Looking into the glass, she met her mother’s familiar gaze.

“My child,” the queen said, her voice low and cautious. “I have missed you.”

It was the first time Lillian had answered her call. Ian, Brenna’s brother, had been Brenna’s only connection to her home world. He kept her apprised of the goings on of the Council and her father. For Lillian to answer now meant something was wrong. She had always been more fearful of her husband’s fury than her daughter’s well-being.

Her actions weren’t surprising, however. On their world, children were pawns on their parent’s chess boards. Used to further agendas and cement alliances.

Brenna stared into the mirror at her mother’s pale face. “Has the Council sent anyone through the Gate recently?”

“No one has been sent. Not since the Oracle spoke.”

A grave feeling settled in Brenna’s stomach. The last time the Oracle had spoken, it had been to foresee betrayal and banishment. So many years had passed since the last prophecy, no one had listened until Brenna had been cast out, betrayed by her father and forced to serve one hundred years of penance.

Even now, she blamed the Oracle. Her words had started the whole fiasco. Brenna was afraid to ask what the Oracle had
foreseen
this time.

“Your father has called in his guards. According to the Oracle, you are going to overthrow him.”

Brenna snorted. “His paranoia knows no bounds.”

“The Oracle—”

She didn’t want to argue the point. “There’s a Shadow Bearer here. He says he’s from our clan. Are you sure the Council didn’t send him?”

“The Council has decreed that this new earthly plane should only be used to banish, not to visit. They consider it primitive and beneath them.”

Brenna leaned forward, peering closer into the glass. “Even to kill me?”

The queen paused, the lines on her face etched in thought. “I doubt they feel the need.”

“Why not? The last I checked I was enemy number one.”

Her mother shook her head. “The Oracle saw more than your father’s overthrow. She looked to the end of your penance and your return to this plane. You are about to start another war.”

“If that’s true why wouldn’t the Council send someone after me?”

“The Oracle also foresaw your death, and not by their hand.”

“So the Council decided I could do their dirty work and overthrow father as long as we both ended up dead?” Rage and fear mingled together, but frustration overwhelmed them both. “The Oracle has been wrong before.”

“No. She’s never wrong. Only misinterpreted.” Her mother glanced behind her shoulder. “I answered your call because I want to help you, and the time is fast approaching. I have to go. Your father’s men are coming.”

The image in the mirror disappeared.

Chapter Three

On his back, arm draped across his forehead, Gray settled into the surprisingly comfortable bed. He had forgotten to draw the hideous curtains, and the light of the full moon spilled across the floor and over his bare chest. Caught somewhere between relief and apprehension, he waited.

His plans were finally coming together. He was not only Brenna’s partner, but her housemate as well. If he had to kill someone tonight to keep it that way, he would prefer to be done with it so he could get some sleep.

Seeing Brenna had rattled him. He had played out their first meeting a thousand times in his head, but nothing had prepared him for the reality. One look into her golden eyes and his lust for vengeance had faded. One look had breached the fortress of resentment he’d spent years nurturing. But all it took was a brief reminder of what he had lost at her hands to regain his self-control, and not blow everything.

Though his eyes slid closed and his breathing slowed, his senses remained alert. He’d entered a lucid dream of home when the door lock slipped free and the hinges squeaked as the door was pushed open. Eyes still closed, he heard a blade slip from its leather covering. Footsteps moved closer to the bed. A body leaned over Gray, arm outstretched.

Gray jerked to the left, his hand wrapped around the wrist that held the dirk. There was no sound aside from the soft thump of the blade hitting the wooden floor. Gray jumped to his feet and summoned his opponent’s dirk to his own hand.

“Not a polite way to say hello.” Gray released the intruder, looking at him for the first time.

Reddish brown hair brushed the stranger’s broad shoulders, curling around his face. He seemed harmless, until you settled on his eyes—dark and brooding and not quite human.

“You don’t belong here,” he said. Rage flickered in his features.

“Now, now, Sam. Be nice. You tried to kill him. Apologize.” A slender woman appeared at the man’s side. She was no more than five feet tall with long black hair. Her porcelain skin was offset by large blue-green eyes. She moved toward him, no expression on her full lips. As she came closer, he was able to catch her scent.

Vampire. He had little use for the parasites and they for him.

A jewel encrusted dagger in one pale hand, she stopped before him. Her eyes slipped closed. She sniffed, then stepped back.

“I should kill you on principle,” she said. “I hate Shadow Bearers. This plane was falling apart, and your Council sat in your ivory towers and did nothing. They could have helped us, could have prevented or repaired the damage to this world before the Guardians sealed us off. I haven’t killed Brenna because she’s stronger than me. But you haven’t proven yourself.”

Gray snorted. “That’s one of the things I hate about vampires. All bark and such a weak bite.” He squeezed the blade of the dirk, blood spilling from his hand and filling the air with power.

With a flick of his wrist the vampire’s dagger flew out of her hand and imbedded in the wall, only the hilt visible. He made a fist, and a coil of power wrapped around the creature, trapping her in place.

“This is my test?” Gray sat back on the bed, his eyes still on the stunned vamp. He ignored the other man, although he could feel his power building. “How many potential housemates have you killed or run off?”