Shadows of Fate (Shadow Born) Page 12

  Seraph came inside and followed Brenna through the kitchen. Gray met them in the living room, a knife in one hand.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

  Seraph nodded and handed them each a gas mask and gloves. “The others have orders to remain in the vehicles for now. It’s not protocol, but it’s more important that you be able to sense whoever did this without them getting in your way. Lucy’s team is dead and most of our evidence has been destroyed. At this point, I’m willing to try anything.”

  “Thanks.” Brenna headed for the front porch, but Gray grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

  “Let me do this. She was your friend.”

  He was right. But if it was Marissa, she wanted to know. She had to be there.

  She followed them onto the porch. Gray knelt down and slashed open the wrapped box, careful not to touch the sides. The cardboard flaps were pulled back to reveal a grey metal box. On the top next to the black handle, was a small white envelope. It had no address, but was shrouded in a fetid stench.

  Brenna pushed forward, desperate to see, but Seraph held her back. She remained silent as Gray opened the container. As he undid the clasp, the essence of ash and poison filled the air. Brenna teared up, but not from any of the poison getting through her mask. She caught sight of the marble pendant lying atop the ash.

  Marissa’s.

  Brenna tried to control her swirling emotions. She had known this was coming, but it still felt as though someone had shredded her heart with a pen knife.

  Seraph placed a hand on her shoulder. “I need to get the ashes back to the lab to confirm their identity. You’ll know as soon as I do, but…”

  She nodded. “I want to know what is in the envelope,” she said as he turned to leave. “Now.”

  Seraph looked back and shook his head. “Lucy needs to open it in the lab. There may be prints.”

  “You know there won’t be. He’s in the double digits and has yet to make such a stupid mistake. Let me open it.”

  “I can’t. There’s always a chance—”

  Before he could seal it in an evidence bag, desperation overwhelmed her better sense. She tore it from his hand. “I need to know.” Turning her back to Seraph, she slit the envelope open. Inside lay a piece of parchment. In bold scrawl was written, “Lose something?”

  The paper clutched in her hand, she turned to Grey. “I know this handwriting.”

  He pried the letter from her fingers. Holding it to the light, he studied the script, along with Seraph. “Orien,” she said. “But he is dead. It was the last thing the Council told me before I was banished.”

  “Your father is a devious man,” said Gray. “He could have faked it.”

  “Why?”

  Gray shrugged. “He is mad, Brenna. Mad men do crazy things. You said yourself Orien is the only one who has both the strength and ability to pull off something like this.”

  She shook her head. “I could understand him trying to frame me for murder. He wants revenge, but he’s a general. He deals in strategies and warfare, not ritualistic murder.”

  “He’s had ninety years to stew on his vengeance,” said Gray. “Who knows what he’s become?”

  Seraph placed his hands on Brenna’s shoulders. “I need to get this back to the lab. Lucy may be able to find some answers, but the longer we wait, the less likely that becomes. I need you to promise that you will keep Gray with you at all times. Either the bastard is planning to pick your friends off one at a time or he will go for you next. Either way, you’re safer with Gray.”

  Gray nodded. “I’ll protect her.” He slipped an arm around her waist, but she pushed him away.

  “I can take care of myself.” She glared at the two men, cursing the hormones that made them go defensive at the slightest threat. “I need your cooperation, not your protection.”

  “No one is trying to imprison you, Brenna. We’re trying to help.”

  “You are,” she said to Seraph.

  It was easier to be angry than to deal with the pain of Marissa’s death. Not wanting to explode because it would lead to tears and embarrassment, she retreated back to the house.

  Inside, she pushed her emotions down, numbing them as best she could. She used the visualization she had mastered as a child, envisioning ice encasing her body, beginning at her toes until it reached the top of her head. She hoped it would help calm the fire of her rage.

  It didn’t work. She lurched up the stairs, stumbling through the hall to her room. Eyes closed, she leaned against the closed door, her breathing ragged. She envisioned Gray and Seraph loading Marissa’s remains into the black vehicle. It was too much.

  When she had herself under some semblance of control, she moved to the window. Seraph gazed up at her, regret in his eyes.

  One hand pressed against the cold glass, the ice and frost at its edges melted and steamed. Rage smothered her pain. She would kill Orien. Alone if she had to, but the wretched piece of trash would die. After all he’d done to her already—even in exile he was tormenting her.

  She could feel her aura shifting as fury fed on her other emotions, threatening to consume her. By the time Gray came inside looking for her, it had made the air around her flare with red and gold light.

  Gray’s touch barely broke through the haze. “Gray and Mira just got back. You need to control your emotions, Brenna,” he whispered against her hair. “The others need you. You can’t let your need for revenge take over.”

  He was right. But Gray needed to leave. The icy covering around her emotions was already reduced to a thin sheet, and his presence wasn’t helping.

  Brenna raised her head. “Did they see the box?”

  “Not what’s inside, but they’re not stupid. You should talk to them as soon as you’re able. They need to hear it from you.”

  “I’ll do it now. I can’t let them sit and wait. It’s cruel.”

  He wrapped his hand around her wrist and led her to the bed. “You’re aura is on fire. Calm yourself or you’ll scare them more than anything.”

  She hated that he could see through her bravado so easily. She closed her eyes, fighting to steady the power running through her as well as the urge to slump her head against his chest. At last she rose to her wobbly feet.

  “How do you feel?” He tried to take her arm, but she side-stepped him. She needed to do this on her own.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. She looked at him for the first time since he had entered the bedroom. There was something unusual about his aura. It was slight, almost impossible to detect, but familiar. She shook her head. This wasn’t the time.

  The walk to the living room was filled with trepidation. Marissa had made her own choices, but the enemy had been more cunning. Perhaps if Brenna had helped Marissa more… If Marissa hadn’t been so damn stubborn…

  But the past could not be rewritten.

  The living room fell silent as she stepped inside. Mira, Sam and Hilda sat together on the brown leather sofa, their faces void of emotion.

  Brenna began to speak only to be interrupted by the ring of her new phone. Only Seraph had an imprint on it so far. She pressed it to one ear.

  “It’s Marissa.” Seraph paused. “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Although she had known the truth, having it confirmed was heart-wrenching. Handing the phone to Gray, she joined the others, and broke the news.

  Gray told Seraph he’d call him back. He slipped the phone into his pocket and left the living room. In their own strange way, these people were a family. But he didn’t belong. He would give them privacy to grieve and wait in the kitchen.

  Gray made his intentions clear before Seraph left with the evidence. If Mira, Sam and Hilda would agree, Gray felt they should be deputized as hunters. They had the motivation and the ability to hunt down Orien and put an end to this, and right now Seraph didn’t know who to trust inside his own organization.

  When he first made the proposal, Seraph had protested. They were
untrained and undisciplined. But after hearing Gray’s argument, he finally relented. Now Gray had to convince Brenna.

  In time the kitchen room door slid open. Brenna appeared, eyes bloodshot, face splotchy. She sat down next to him, exhausted.

  “We’re getting the case and all the resources we need,” said Gray.

  Relief shone in her eyes. “I would have taken it anyway,” she said. “As far as I’m concerned, Seraph has no choice.”

  “Seraph always has a choice.”

  Brenna gave a bitter laugh. “Not always.”

  Gray watched her leave. Something had changed. She was different now. More dangerous, less controlled.

  “If you agree, he’ll deputize the others as hunters.”

  “All privileges included?”

  “God help us, but yes. Including weapon permits.”

  Nodding, she got back up and returned to the living room. “I’ll let them know.”

  Gray watched her disappear. He had expected more of a reaction, even an objection. Pushing aside his uneasiness, he made the call to Seraph. They needed to know what else Seraph had learned from the remains.

  He waited for Seraph to answer, letting the information so far wiggle together in his mind. It had been Orien’s writing. Either the killer was a talented forger or Adare was right and the bastard was still alive. Gray hoped so. He had spent years fantasizing how he would make the man suffer.

  But it didn’t make sense for the demons to work with a dishonored Shadow Bearer. There were few things demons feared, but Shadow Bearers were at the top of the list. The enmity between them long predated his people’s current civil war. A line had been crossed. Alliances between foes had been established, the natural order thrown into chaos. It made Gray’s head hurt.

  When Seraph didn’t answer, Gray slid the phone back into his pocket. He got up to leave when Hilda materialized in his path.

  “Running away?” She asked. A silver stiletto appeared in her hand. “Aren’t we going to hunt the bastard?” She flicked the sharp edge against her fingertips.

  “We will. Be patient.”

  “Yeah, yeah, patience is a virtue. You sound like Brenna.”

  Gray laughed. “I would tell you to rest, but do ghosts sleep?”

  “You better educate yourself, bucko.” She moved closer until they stood nose to nose. “I won’t be led by an ignorant fool.”

  Gray whispered a spell under his breath as Hilda evaporated.

  Her form froze, stuck halfway.

  “What the hell? What… what did you do to me?” Eyes wild, she struggled to control her body.

  Moving closer, Gray looked deep into her gray eyes. “Never underestimate your opponent,” he said, and released her.

  Although she shied away, she remained visible. “What did you do?”

  Gray winked. The ghost was a menace, but now she knew who was in charge. Even so, he needed blood. The potion was wearing off and, even with the charge he had received from Brenna, his glamour was beginning to wane.

  He found Brenna in the living room. She sat cross-legged on the old red velvet couch, gazing off into the distance. The others had left and the cold outside air still danced in the room.

  “Things are moving fast,” she said, picking at a tear of fabric on the arm of the couch. “We should come up with a game plan.”

  Gray sighed. He settled down beside her. It soothed him to be near her and feel the power swirling around her body.

  “Do you think we can use the tools?” She straightened, shifting so her legs settled beneath her body.

  Gray studied her. “For what?”

  “If you can’t beat them, join them. Draw some demons to us on our terms and get some answers. Banish them back.”

  He didn’t like where this was going. “So we’re going to be blood thirsty bastards like Orien? You do realize what’s involved. That blood wasn’t for decoration.”

  She shrugged. “It was just an idea.” She leaned back, her legs lightly brushed against his thigh. “What will we do once we catch him? Orien, I mean. Only the Council can punish him and clearly they didn’t touch a hair on his head last time. If we usurp their authority, we might be the ones they execute.”

  “They will be forced to act if we prove he killed Dunham’s family.”

  “All that would do is ramp up the war back home. The Vires have been thirsting for our blood since the massacre. We’d be giving them a reason.”

  “They want answers. You married their prince, promised them peace, and the next day he was dead along with much of the royal family. I would say they have shown amazing restraint by letting you live to serve your penance.”

  He saw the pain in her eyes as she spoke. “I told you before. You don’t know the whole story.”

  “Then tell me,” he said. “Prove to me you aren’t the heartless bitch I heard about who set up her husband and abandoned him while he lay dying. Tell me his blood isn’t on your hands.”

  Brenna looked at him with a level gaze, as if judging his intentions. She murmured an incantation under her breath and the doors and windows snapped shut. A thick black barrier of smoke covered the walls, allowing no one to enter or exit. “I don’t know anything about you,” she said. “You act like you have a different stake in the war. You sympathize with the Vires, which to most people would make you just as much a traitor as I am.” She cocked her head. “The more I’m with you, the more I wonder exactly what you are.” She paused, shifting in place. “I owe you nothing. But if we are going to work together, you have to trust me.”

  She took a deep breath and shed her leather coat, tossing it on the couch beside him. She slowly raised her gray sweater, revealing a smooth taut belly. She pulled it overhead. As it hit the floor she was already sliding her jeans over her hips until she stood in only a pair of purple lace panties and a bra.

  Gray tried to remain unaffected. This wasn’t what she looked like. The unscarred form in front of him was a creation of her imagination and magic.

  Then she dropped her glamour.

  Gray felt as if the breath had been sucked from him. Deep wounds covered her flesh. They ran down her legs and up her back and chest, scars twined around her fragile neck like a noose. Scars that couldn’t heal. The word ‘traitor’ had been carved in the flesh of her arm. A sign of the Council’s punishment.

  It was impossible to look away. Who had done this to her? She was still beautiful, but these marks told the story of her life. This was a woman who had been through hell, and survived.

  “I could not save my husband.” Her voice shook with emotion. “I was dragged away by my father’s men and tortured. They were supposed to kill me.”

  Gray watched in horror as she turned and showed him her back. He memorized the damage.

  “I was naked and bloody when I escaped,” she continued. “I went back for Dunham. But he was gone. There was only blood.” She closed her eyes. “So much blood he couldn’t have survived. And…” She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I’m told I killed hundreds of men that day, but I don’t remember any of it. All I remember was the need to tell the Council. The next thing I remember I was crawling up the mountain to the Sentinel. But my father got to the Council first with his own story, and I arrived covered in the blood of my own people. They beat me then I was forced through the portal.”

  “Does anyone know the truth?”

  “My father and Orien.” She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure what happened. I still don’t remember.”

  Gray rose, helping her back into her clothes as she cloaked herself in glamour. Once dressed, he pulled her against him. Guilt assuaged him as he felt the warmth of her body, the flow of her magic. He should have known, but he had damned her as a traitor and condemned her along with the others. Worst of all, he had made no attempt to discern the truth.

  She had suffered because of him.

  She pushed against his chest, freeing herself. He watched her carefully as she stepped back.

  “If you
use this against me, I will kill you. If you hurt my friends I will kill you.” She paused. “If you try to take me home to start a civil war against my father, I will kill you.”

  He nodded. “I am sorry. Thank you for telling me.”

  She came close, too close to be sure of his own control. “Tell me what you’re hiding,” she said. “I want to trust you as well.”

  He closed his eyes at the touch of her hot breath. “I will,” he whispered. “But this is not the right time.”

  No longer able to resist, he pulled her mouth to his. Her lips tasted like a cold drink of water beneath the scorching sun. The need to run his fingers across her, to taste her blood, was both overwhelming and unsettling.

  She groaned against him. Her tongue slipped into his mouth. Gray lost all pretense of control. His free hand wrapped around her waist, pressing her against the length of his body. The kiss turned desperate, uncontrollable, thickening the air in the room.

  Gray was almost mindless when he felt her shove against his chest. Appalled by his loss of control, he released her. She stepped back. “I can’t do this,” she said. “Please, don’t touch me again. We will work together, but that’s it. I can’t…”

  He could feel her tension as she brushed past him into the hall, dismissing the black smoke as she did so. She was out of sorts, but so was he. In that moment, she had shattered all the truths he had built his life around.

  His brothers had been wrong. Or they had lied.

  He let his mind play over the possibility. They had never accepted her as his wife. In the years it had taken to piece him back together, they had convinced him Brenna had been the mastermind behind the attack, and he had believed them.

  Damn Seraph. They had been friends for a lifetime. Gray had come here to make Brenna pay for what she had done to his family. But from the start he had known Seraph had his own agenda. Seraph had wanted him to seek the truth, not revenge.

  Gray pulled a hand through his hair. Brenna had lost another friend. She was vulnerable. Now was not the time to drop his glamour and say, “Guess what? I’m not dead after all.” This was not the Brenna he had married. The innocent, naïve girl had been replaced by a hard, wounded woman who found it difficult to trust. But her body recognized him. Her blood practically sang when they were together, recognizing the bond between them. But would she forgive him for abandoning her all these years? In his desire for vengeance he had never imagined that on some level he was in the wrong. But he had abandoned his wife to the whim of her own people for almost a hundred years.