Shadow's Awakening: The Shadow Warder Series, Book One (An Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (6 page)

The ground in front of the house had been rubbed bare by the rough-looking collection of SUVs and trucks parked haphazardly across what should have been the front lawn. Only one car was parked in the gravel drive, a well-kept sedan. A shutter hung askew, scraping dingy white paint from the siding. Tucked under the eaves, two windows on the third floor were secured with thick black bars. The only thing on the house that didn’t look about to fall to pieces, the sturdy bars were a jarring interruption in the facade of the farmhouse. It wasn’t hard for Conner to guess where the Vorati had stashed their prisoner.

An hour earlier, Zach sent Conner the location of the captive Shadow. A few seconds later he had sent a second text saying, “GO NOW DON’T WAIT.” In the shade of the woods, Conner and Kiernan assessed their options. Kiernan broke the silence.

“Unless you know how to turn us into earthworms, there’s no cover between here and the house.”

“I can see that,” Conner said. “This would be much easier if we could wait until dark.”

“The text said to go now.”

“I know. I know,” Conner said. “I have an idea, but it’s not great. Do you remember that cloaking spell you used to use at the Academy when you wanted to sneak into the girls’ dorm?”

“That spell sucked,” Kiernan said with a laugh. “I almost always got caught.”

“Yeah. And neither of us is good at spell craft anyway. But it’s better than strolling across that field in broad daylight with no protection at all. Worst case it blurs us a little.”

“We can do that one without any tools,” Kiernan said. “So then what? We knock on the front door and ask if they’re holding a Shadow captive and can we have her?”

“Not exactly. How do you feel about blowing up one of the cars?”

“I always feel good about blowing something up,” Kiernan said with a grin.

Kiernan’s affection for explosives was a badly kept secret. Large or small, by mundane means or spelled, he loved to blow things up. Conner was sure he had everything on him that he might need for a small explosion. “Great. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

With the ease of years working as a team, Conner and Kiernan planned their attack and began the cloaking spell. Tracing a symbol on two quarter-sized wooden discs, they slipped the discs into their pockets. As expected, the spell didn’t work well. They were both fully visible, but appeared to shimmer, as if viewed through waves of heat rising from hot pavement on a scorching summer day. If they moved fast, it might be enough. Leaning over to get as low as possible, they ran for the vehicles parked in front of the farmhouse.

Kiernan reached a white SUV parked at a sloppy angle to the front porch. About twenty feet back from the structure, it was just far enough that it wouldn’t set the house on fire. Probably. Kiernan slid under the SUV as Conner crouched low beside the tailpipe. Conner heard Kiernan working quickly near what he assumed was the gas tank. He knew Kiernan preferred using human tools to have his fun, but Kiernan kept a few magical options on hand in case of unexpected opportunities. Only Kiernan would be absolutely miserable at every aspect of spell craft except that which related to fire. With a scrape and crunch of gravel, Kiernan rolled out from beneath the SUV.

“Fire in the hole,” he shouted, grabbing Conner’s sleeve and pulling him toward the side of the house closest to the front door.

Kiernan’s shout had alerted the inhabitants of the house. The door opened seconds before the SUV erupted into a fireball. The concussion knocked the Voratus at the door back into the house. Conner and Kiernan had already ducked around the corner, out of its line of sight. The Voratus in the doorway recovered its balance and ran out into the yard. It wasn’t especially tall or big, just a rangy man of average height with stringy hair and vacant eyes.

“Idiot,” Conner said under his breath. He shouldn’t complain. The Voratus had done exactly what they’d wanted: left the safety of the house. A second followed the first. This one was bigger, its gaze sharp. According to the Oracle’s count, that would leave no more than five in the house. Kiernan used the remaining parked cars as cover, circling back toward the fire. He flanked the first demon without the second seeing him.

The first Voratus ran as close as it could get to the car, as if trying to determine what had started the fire. The possibility of attack didn’t seem to have occurred to it. Conner shook his head. The Voratus really was dumb. He left it to Kiernan and focused on the second demon. This one looked a little more alert.

It moved in an arc, giving the burning SUV a wide berth. Smoke boiled up from the vehicle, turning the air acrid and greasy. The gas tank had exploded already, but there was plenty of fabric and rubber left as fuel. Conner left his hiding place around the side of the house, approaching the second Voratus silently. With the instinct of a survivor, it whirled on Conner just as Kiernan made his move on the first demon.

Conner’s Voratus froze for a second, as if wondering if it should attack or flee. Out of the corner of his eye, Conner saw Kiernan take down his Voratus with a quick roundhouse. While the demon lay stunned by the hit, Kiernan stabbed it with a calix. Vorati might be hard to kill but a calix did the job every time.

Conner didn’t think his target would be such an easy mark. He drew his knife and launched himself at the demon. There was no time to wait. By now the others knew something was going on. He and Kiernan had to get in the house to find the Shadow before it was too late.

Conner struck the Voratus hard, taking them both to the ground. He managed to sink his blade in the thing’s side before it shoved him off and rolled away. Bleeding from the stab wound, the Voratus kicked out at Conner’s head, its booted feet swinging heavily through the air. Conner ducked to his right, knocked off balance as one boot grazed the side of his head.

He dove for the Voratus again. Better to keep the fight on the ground. The Voratus’s reach almost equaled Conner’s own. On their feet, it might get lucky with a punch or kick. It was big, but not as big as Conner. Half its size was fat, not muscle. If Conner could pin it while it was down, it wouldn’t have the strength to break away.

Rolling on top of the bleeding Voratus, Conner allowed it to push him to the side. As he slid to his back, Conner pulled the Voratus with him, letting the thing flail in his grip until it lay half over his lap. Conner had a loose hold on its arm. In its panic, the demon hadn’t realized it was trapped. Conner wrenched the Voratus’s arm back at a painful angle. The hold didn’t just threaten to break the demon’s arm, it immobilized its torso just enough for Conner to pull out a calix and stab it in the chest. As soon as he heard the rushing sound that signaled the calix was doing its job, Conner pushed the Voratus away and came to his feet. The front door of the house hung open. Sounds of fighting drifted out into the yard. Conner sprinted for the door.

Inside, Kiernan was busy with two Vorati demons. They both equaled him in size, but a moment of watching told Conner they weren’t a match for Kiernan.

As if sensing Conner behind him, Kiernan spoke. “Find the girl,” Kiernan said. “I’ll take care of anything down here.”

Conner headed for the staircase opposite the door. From above he heard a door slam. His feet pounding on the stairs, he followed the sound to his target.

Hannah dozed on her bed, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on her battered face. Soon the weather would heat and her third floor room would be unbearable. Today, after a dull, gray winter, she treasured the golden sunlight. A shout drifted up the stairs. Hannah opened her eyes. Seconds later, she heard a loud bang. The farmhouse shook around her. For a moment, Hannah wondered if she was dreaming. The short chain hanging from her ceiling fan swayed in a lopsided circle, convincing Hannah that she was wide awake. Something was going on, something big enough to shake the three-story farmhouse.

Ignoring the protest of her bruised body and aching head, Hannah eased to her feet. It might be suicide, but if whatever was happening provided a diversion, she could get another chance to escape. Odds were, it had nothing to do with her and no one would come upstairs. But if they did. Hannah wasn’t going to waste the chance.

Glenn thought her immobile from the damage he’d inflicted. He wouldn’t be expecting her to try again so soon. In truth, her body was one deep bruise from her shins to her shoulders. Her jaw hurt so badly, it probably had a hairline fracture. Lying in the sun had seemed to be helping. Maybe it was just the rest. Either way, she felt steadier on her feet than she’d been so far that morning.

Hannah braced herself for the rush of pain in her head as she leaned over to dig beneath the bed. In her excitement at knocking out the mountain of a man the day before, she’d forgotten her emergency bag. Cobbled together out of an old laundry bag and the shoulder strap from a long misplaced suitcase, the bag contained what Hannah considered to be her essentials. One pair each of underwear, socks, and jeans. A torn sweatshirt from her high school volleyball team. A thin t-shirt. A five dollar bill she’d found in the back of a dresser drawer. And the most important item: a photograph of Hannah with her mother.

Taken at a barbecue in the summer between Hannah’s freshman and sophomore years in college, the photograph showed them sitting on the front porch of the farmhouse, arm in arm, laughing. In her light tan and summer dress, Amy glowed with happiness and good health. She was a woman newly in love, with no hint of the heart attack to come. Hannah always thought they looked more like sisters in that picture than mother and daughter. Their love for one another was so clear, sometimes Hannah couldn’t bear to look at it. Glenn didn’t know the photograph existed. It was the one thing Hannah would have killed to protect.

The bag was light in her hands. As the sum of her possessions, it made a pathetic statement about what Hannah’s life had become. She slung the bag over her shoulder, arranging it behind her back to hide it from immediate view. If she didn’t make it out, she hoped Glenn wouldn’t notice the bag and take it from her.

Hannah’s heart swelled with hope as she heard the rhythmic thump of feet climbing the stairs to the attic. She pressed herself flat to the wall, just to the side of the doorway, leaning back so that her feet stuck out further than her body. Three deadbolts snicked in quick succession and the door slammed open, flying toward Hannah’s face before it hit her feet and rebounded into Glenn. He swore loudly and looked around the room.

“Where the fuck is she?” he said. He moved deeper into the room and began to toss the blankets off her bed.

Hannah started to ease around the door, hoping to escape down the stairs while Glenn’s back was turned. The first time she’d tried this, it had been a miserable failure. Now, with Glenn so distracted, she might have a chance. Heavy feet pounded up the stairs below her. From the pace and volume of the footfalls she could tell that whoever it was, they were a lot bigger than Glenn and moving fast. Hannah froze. Was this the man Glenn said he was going to give her to? Were the two men she’d injured already healed? Hannah eased back, watching as Glenn heard the newcomer and turned to face the doorway. His eyes widened.

“Who the fuck are you?” Glenn demanded, drawing his long knife.

No answer. Hannah peeked around the door to see the intruder. Her jaw dropped. He was huge. Bigger than the mountain. He filled the door frame, every inch of him solid muscle. Hannah’s heart sank. She might have been able to get away from Glenn, but not this man. If she’d had a weapon she might have had a slim chance, but Glenn had taken away her metal bar. Aside from her determination to live, Hannah was defenseless.

Hannah took a tiny step away from the doorway, putting more space between her and this new threat. One foot pressed on a loose floorboard. The soft squeak drew the man’s attention. They both froze in place, eyes locked together. Hannah’s breath seized in her lungs. The stranger loomed in the doorway, ready to attack, filled with rage, and vibrating with power. Tall, dark and terrifying, she thought.

“Don’t move,” he said to Hannah, voice kind despite his aggressive appearance. He turned his head back toward Glenn, who had been inching around to Conner’s right, but kept his eyes on Hannah. “Do you understand? Don’t move.”

Hannah nodded her head with a quick jerk and stepped back again. Glenn raised his knife. Hannah took another step backward, trembling with fear. This new threat made Glenn seem like a schoolboy and he was solidly between her and the door. She was trapped. Again.