The Shadow: The Original's Trilogy Read online

Trina sobered. Shit. She was a vampire now. Both she and Lilith were, so the house wasn’t protected. And it hadn’t even occurred to her that he might be a vampire. She didn’t think they were allowed to transform children. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one. Sixteen when I was transformed.”

  Sixteen? She’d been thinking closer to fourteen. Her expression must’ve reflected her disbelief because he shrugged. “I was a late bloomer.”

  He was stuck in that adolescent body. Vampires didn’t age. His hair would grow along with his mind and emotions, but Harry’s body never would. Aging internally while being stranded in the physical body of a youth must be its own special brand of hell. Harry grew restless in his chair. Goddess preserve, who did this to him?

  Duncan strode farther into the room. “You bloody little fool, do you know what a risk it was coming here?”

  Could Duncan have transformed the boy?

  He glanced at Trina, did a double-take, and frowned. “Don’t insult me. I’m not the one who did that.” He motioned to Harry. “I’m a shifter. He’s a splitter. We’d have the same talent if I’d done it.”

  Shifter? Did that make her a shifter, too? What the hell was a shifter?

  Harry stood. He jerked his chin up. “All right?”

  “It’s all Pete Tong, pup. You shouldn’t have come.”

  Who the hell was Pete Tong? Another vampire?

  Duncan scowled. “We got Barney Rubble enough without me dustbin lid going off on the frog and toad with no dicky bird, yeah? Anyone could’ve seen ya balling around, ya fucking berk.”

  It was some kind of code. They were keeping secrets from her, damn it.

  Harry didn’t back down. Despite being shorter than her and thinner by far, he took a step closer to Duncan, puffing his chest out. “Ya should’ve thought about that, afore ya left me on me Jack Jones. Your dead loss came sneaking up the table and chairs like a fucking tea leaf, mate. Him ’an his china plates, they went all kinds of Guy Fawkes on the place.”

  Duncan jerked back as though he’d been punched.

  Guy Fawkes—didn’t he try to blow up Parliament? The look of absolute shock on Duncan’s face had her reaching for him.

  “Everything?”

  “I, uh . . . .” Harry patted his coat, dug into the pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. “Nabbed this on the way out.”

  He grabbed the boy and pulled him into a bear hug. “You’re barking, you little fool.”

  Harry squirmed out of the embrace and thrust the box at Duncan. “Take it. You’re lucky I happened to be watching the security tellys and saw what they were doing.”

  “Jesus, pup. I’m sorry as hell I wasn’t there. You all right?”

  Instead of answering, Harry tipped his head toward her. “So while I dodged ash, you’re over here wetting your Hampton in treacle.”

  Duncan’s expression darkened. “Belt up. It’s not like that.”

  She poked Harry in the shoulder. “I don’t know what you said, but I don’t think I like it.”

  He ignored her and stared at Duncan. “What’s it like, then?”

  “Apologize to the lady first.”

  She stared at Duncan. Why would he stick up for her after what happened this morning?

  Harry’s chin went up a notch, his lips puckering for a moment before he kissed his teeth. “Ma’am, I’m sorry if I offended. I’m furious with big D here, but I had no right to allow that animosity to extend to you.” He sounded like an American kid again.

  “Yeah, well, whatever language you two were talking in, don’t do it again. If you want privacy . . . leave.”

  Harry rolled his eyes. “One last thing, then English the whole way.” He turned to Duncan. “You’re headed for buckets and pails. And that’s if you’re lucky.” Harry snorted. “You’re gonna get yourself dusted breaking your damned rules.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Her gaze bounced between the two of them. They didn’t take their eyes off each other. “Tell me.”

  Duncan gave a minute shake of his head.

  Harry opened his mouth.

  “Don’t.” He pointed at Harry. “Don’t go rabbiting on about things that don’t concern her.”

  Now she had to know. “Tell me.”

  “The Council issued a kill order on D.” Harry jerked his chin toward Duncan.

  The room spun. “What?” She’d been so focused on protecting him from herself, she’d forgotten about the Council.

  Duncan ushered her to a seat and pushed her into it. “Look what you did, pup.”

  She bounced right back up. “Why didn’t you say something?” She’d completely forgotten about why he’d initially come. Hadn’t even thought of what repercussions he’d face for failing to do his duty.

  “He had three nights.” Harry sat in the armchair and this time George joined him, curling up on the boy’s lap like they’d known each other for years.

  Duncan snorted. “Been two.”

  “Jesus, D, learn to fucking count.”

  “Been here two nights.”

  “And traveling for most of one. Two plus one equals—”

  “Fuck off, ’arry. No one counts travel time.”

  “Harry. With a fucking H, D. Buy a consonant once in a while, won’t you? And the Council does count travel time, you bloody—”

  Trina held up her arms for silence. “Enough.” She took a deep breath and met Duncan’s gaze. “I’m so sorry. If you need to go home to straighten anything out—”

  Harry snorted. “He doesn’t have one anymore.”

  She stared. “What?”

  “That’s what I told him. Leo burned his house to the ground. I’d have been dust, too, if the old man here wasn’t so freaking paranoid.”

  Chapter 25

  Duncan sat. He’d been told once that everything came up roses once a daemon found their life mate. What a load of rubbish. If anything, everything was in a tight downward spiral.

  He’d found out fuck-all at Rowena’s place. He’d hoped she’d left something behind that would prove that damn necklace Trina wore warped her Magic. Thought he’d just waltz over there and solve their problems and Trina would fall back into his arms.

  There wasn’t going to be an easy fix.

  He squeezed the box Harry brought him in his hands, hoping to stop them from trembling. He’d lived in that townhome most his life, now. Collected a massive library of books and art. Everything him and the lad owned was gone.

  At least they each had a rucksack with a few changes of clothes. But hell, now what did he have to offer Trina? Not much.

  He turned the box over and ran his thumb over the words carved into the bottom—Never walk away.

  “So what are we doing?” Harry cuddled George to his chest and for the first time, the beast purred. “Saw the bags by the stairs. We headed out?”

  His gaze didn’t lift from the box. He lifted the lid and touched the scrap of purple fabric inside. How had Harry known how important this was? He didn’t remember taking it out around the lad. “Gotta talk to the Watchers.”

  “So talk.”

  Trina cleared her throat. “The problem is, I interfere with their vision. If we want to talk to them, we have to go see them.”

  Harry laughed. “Ri-ight. Then have D go somewhere else and chat with them.”

  “We can’t risk all the Watchers hearing us. They’re not all on our side.” Trina turned to Duncan. “I think I figured out where to go.”

  Duncan lifted his brow.

  “Remember in Rowena’s Grimoire? All those pages she had about the Thirteen Steps to Hell?”

  “You said it was a legend.”

  “But you said yourself there’s a kernel of truth in every tall tale. She was a sick woman, but she was smart. She wouldn’t have spent so much time researching the steps if she didn’t think them important.”

  Harry glanced back and forth between them. “You’re serious about this?”

  He sat back against the cushions and f
illed Harry in on what they were up against.

  “So you’re going to open the gates to Machon? Let every daemon on that side have access to all the humans on this side? It’s going to be a fucking massacre.”

  The lad had reason to worry. He still had a human family. His parents were alive and well and would be affected with whatever decision they made. Everyone would. “They’ll be okay.” He’d made sure of it. The Cayce family knew if they were ever in trouble to speak his name out loud. Harry didn’t know that, though. The lad had never been open to talking about his parents nor had he ever been willing to so much as write them a letter.

  “You can’t guarantee that. You don’t know for sure.”

  “What I know is that if we don’t figure this out, what happens to the humans on this side of the portal is the end game.” Duncan threw his hands up. “So choose. Either daemons have access to humans, or all humans die.”

  Harry shifted his gaze to Trina. “See what I mean? At least it wasn’t a big long-ass story, but he put the question to me, knowing damn well there isn’t any choice to be made.”

  “Fuck me.” He stood and walked out of the room. He didn’t have patience for this. Didn’t need another opinion clouding the options when he and Trina were already at odds. How the hell was he supposed to get the woman to give him a chance when Harry would be making his life difficult at every turn?

  “Hey, D.”

  “What!”

  The lad held up a glass of milk.

  Trina stared at it with wide eyes.

  Walking closer, the smell hit him before he could make out the chunks floating on the surface. “It’s off.”

  “I just poured that. Hasn’t been out more than half an hour.”

  He’d never heard of such a thing. How could milk go off like that? The house wasn’t warm, in fact there was a bit of a chill . . . His gaze shifted to the door. To the windows. “Grab your bags and run.”

  The two of them stared, unmoving.

  “That.” He pointed to the milk. “Can’t be good. Something’s coming for us and this house isn’t protected anymore.”

  That lit a fire under their arses.

  Duncan grabbed his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. He headed for the door.

  “Wait!” Trina’s shout stopped him cold. “Spell travel.”

  The faint sound of growling came through the door. The Nephilim. They were here. He backed away from the door. “Yeah, okay.” He turned and grabbed hold of her hand.

  Harry slipped past and ran back to the living room.

  “Get your arse back here, pup!”

  The Nephilim were getting louder. Closer. Outside, the porch groaned. Something snarled.

  Harry returned with his scrawny arms full of sleepy feline.

  Christ, that was the last thing they needed. “Leave the beast here.”

  Claws scraped against the door.

  “No. We aren’t leaving anyone behind who might get hurt and that includes the cat.”

  Trina grabbed hold of both of them. “It’s fine.” She closed her eyes and started the spell.

  Somewhere in the house a window shattered.

  They started to fade. Their bodies separating into the tiny particles.

  The door flung open. Duncan turned to fight. Trina’s grip tightened. The door and the creatures breaching the house disappeared in a blink.

  They were outside. The night was cool and damp. Clouds obscured the light from the moon. A row of tombstones studded the overgrown grass to their right and next to them was a large square of cement.

  “Sorry about that.” Trina winced. “I’ve never tried to spell travel with a group before. It’ll be quicker next time.”

  Duncan squeezed her hand. “You did fine.”

  She gave him a small smile and glanced around. “This is it. Maltby Cemetery.” Trina pulled her hand away from his and Harry’s and walked closer to the cement pad.

  He nodded. “How far are we from Haven House?”

  “Maybe twenty miles. We’re in Monroe.”

  The cemetery was quiet but for some light traffic on a nearby road. “Let’s be quick. Don’t know how long until they find us again.”

  “Crowley must have sent them to the house.” Trina shook her head. “But he couldn’t have known we were there, he can’t see me.”

  “Don’t know.” But he’d be damned if they took any more risks like that. “We stay on the move from here out.”

  “Your phone, D.” Harry shifted George in his arms. “Shut off your phone. That’s how I found you. I did a reverse GPS location search. It’s Council-issued.”

  “Shit. And Crowley’s tight with the Council.” He dug out his phone, powered it off and stuffed it into his pocket. “If they’re working together, we’ll have to keep watch for Sentries, too.”

  Trina stepped to the side, put a hand on his arm to angle him away from Harry and whispered. “You don’t have to stay with me. I understand if—”

  She was gutting him. Bit by bit without mercy. “Look, yeah. I made a promise to”—me son—“someone once that I would never walk away from a problem. I intend to do the job the Watchers assigned me. I’ll keep you safe and I’ll get you back home.”

  She didn’t even look at him.

  “All right. It’s your show. Let’s get to it.”

  *****

  Keep it together. Keep moving forward. She fisted her hands, closed her eyes and visualized the cement, the billions of tiny particles splitting apart, floating, and changing into the tiny particles that made up the air around them. She couldn’t make a particle disappear completely, but at the atomic level, the same stuff made up everything. Neurons. Protons.

  Harry whistled.

  She opened her eyes and looked straight down thirteen steps that led nowhere. Darkness cloaked the bottom, the moonlight too faint to reach the depth.

  “That’s it?” Duncan started for the steps.

  “Don’t.” She stopped him. “Let me.” The vague shape of something shifted in the shadows.

  He blocked her path. “You’re staying with me.”

  For a second she thought he didn’t intend to let her put an end to them. And for the first time, she had to acknowledge that that’s what she’d wanted all along. For him to demand her attention. For him—for someone—to fight for her. To want her. Not because it was easy, but because they cared.

  “Just because you don’t want me, doesn’t me I’m not going to do my job. I’m here to protect you, not stand by while you do the dangerous stuff.”

  She rubbed her hand over her chest, as if she could sooth the hallow ache that had settled deep under her ribs. He might be hiding it well—focusing on business instead of the personal mess she’d created this afternoon, but she’d hurt him. All she wanted to do was hold him close and soothe the rejection she’d dished out. But she had to let him go. She had to keep him safe. Better he be hurt than ash.

  “Stay behind me.” She didn’t wait for a response, but walked around him and settled her gaze at the bottom of the steps. She didn’t trust whatever was down there. She slid her foot onto the first step, the one level with the muddy earth. The sole of her shoe scraped across the uneven surface, sending a shiver up her spine.

  Duncan stepped up behind her, so close his hip brushed against her bum. His breath touched the cradle of her neck as he leaned down and took hold of her hand. He lifted it, resting the heel of his hand on her shoulder, entwining his fingers with hers. “Rowena had notes about people disappearing on these steps. Where you go, I go.”

  With effort, she resisted the urge to lean back into him. “You with us, Harry?”

  “Yep.”

  She lowered her foot. The Earth held its breath on the second step. The wind stopped. The faint sound of traffic, the rattling leaves—everything went silent.

  The legends made sense now. Something was different about this place, unsettling.

  On the third step, everything tilted and blurred. For a few seconds sh
e thought she was falling. Her free hand flew out to her side of its own accord as instinct took over and her body tried to fight the sense of vertigo.

  Duncan didn’t let her go, his fingers tightened around hers. Steadying. Grounding. She breathed through dizziness. Anchored her energy to the Earth and the world righted itself.

  She went down another step. The scent of rotten eggs stuffed into a decomposing corpse rolled over her. Sulfur. Decay. She could taste the oily scent. Her stomach roiled. Churned.

  “Shite.” Duncan jostled her as he caught his balance.

  “You okay, D?”

  “Yeah.”

  She took her hand from the wall and covered her mouth and nose with her shirt.

  Down. Her skin crawled. Her hair stood on end. Doubt crowded her determination. They shouldn’t be here. This place wasn’t meant for the living. Not even the living dead. She took a deep breath through her mouth, through her shirt, and wiped her eyes. They’d started to water.

  Another step. Six so far. They weren’t even halfway. Her mind filled with dark things. Images. Flashes of faces. Her mother staring as blood leaked from her eyes and nose. She blinked. Swept her hand out in front of her as if she could swat the image away like a fly.

  “You sure we’re in the right place?”

  She turned all the way around. “I don’t—” Her hair lifted, like when someone tried to sneak up and brushed her aura. She whipped around. She’d expected something awful to be there, below her on the stairs, but . . . nothing. She scanned the darkness at the bottom and again, the shadows moved. “I don’t know.”

  He let go of her hand and his arm snaked around her shoulder. “No. It’s this place. It’s making us doubt. We came here for a reason and we’re going to the bottom.”

  His arm was heavy around her shoulders. She’d never allowed anyone to do that to her, but not only did she allow him, she held onto his wrist, anchoring him there. “You okay, Harry?”

  “I’m thinking I want this over and done, Lopez. Get us to the bottom already.”

  Down.

  The world spun around her on the seventh step. Though not the stone and earth walls. Not the stairs. Nor the blackness pooling at the bottom.

  The car spun, streetlights and headlights flashed in her vision. Her mother screamed. Tires squealed. Glass shattered.