The Shadow: The Original's Trilogy Read online

  Good. He didn’t like the idea of Trina walking around on those.

  In the center of the hall, a huge round fire pit lay in the middle of the floor. He didn’t see any fuel in the pit—no wood nor charcoal. The blue flames rising high overhead didn’t create any smoke. Long, stone tables surrounded the pit on three sides of the hall. On the fourth side, a table sat higher than the others, raised on a dais. Two thrones sat behind that—the seats far too dainty for a male.

  “Here.” Doom motioned off to the side, toward a vestibule to the left of the thrones—the room had a thick white rug laid over the floor, the walls covered in glass-encased bookshelves. In the center, there was a table and chairs with a large tome leaning on a book-holder. “The Black Book of Daemonology.”

  Trina headed straight for the book.

  “Pup, why don’t you—”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Duncan leaned his hip against the table. He liked his vantage better from here, where he could watch the daemons milling about. Some sat at tables to chat. Others wandered into various vestibules. Many cast curious glances their way, but none approached.

  His gaze fixed on Trina. He’d screwed up with her again, but how the hell did he get her to give him a chance as her mate, when she didn’t need him?

  Doom leaned his hip against the table across from his. “You, my friend, have the look of a male who does not know whether he wants to give his female a tongue lashing”—he grinned—“or a tongue lashing.” When he didn’t reply, Doom kept talking. “Been there with my female.”

  “You’re mated?” His gaze remained on Trina. She kept turning around to check on him.

  He tipped his head left, then right. “Yes, but I have not seen her for a while.”

  “How does that work?”

  “She’s human.” He shrugged. “I’ve been stuck here. So if she’s reincarnated since I last saw her, she did so on Earth.”

  “She doesn’t mind?” He motioned to Doom. “You know, how you look?”

  “Of course she does.” He tugged on one of the curved black horns jutting from his head, fingering the silver hoops pierced through it. “Anu knows she liked me well enough when human, but now that I’m gallu, her heart races for altogether different reasons.”

  Christ, at least Trina didn’t fear him.

  “Don’t suppose there’s somewhere we can clean up after she’s done there.”

  “Mm.” Doom gave him a sidelong glance. “You looking for efficiency or someplace private?”

  Interesting thought. “Where would this private spot be?”

  Doom nodded to an arched door across the hall. “Through there, down the steps. You’ll find hot springs surrounded by a garden. The Grigori coven used it as a place of meditation and rest from their powers.”

  “Oh?”

  “The garden is bound. Her Magic won’t work there.” Doom pulled out a ring of keys, selected one, and handed it to Duncan. “Don’t scare her.”

  He took the key. “Scare her? You did see what she’s capable of.”

  “Yes. But she’s our gasan. If she screams in terror, we must defend her. If we damage her mate, she’ll not be pleased. We will all lose, then.”

  Oh, ho! The balls on this guy. “You wouldn’t damage me.”

  Doom grinned so wide his fangs were visible. “One of these days, for fun, we will fight.”

  For fun. Duncan held out his hand and Doom shook it. “Deal.” He liked Doom. He was his kind of people.

  *****

  Duncan stood within sight, he was right there and still the string linking them pulled as taut as if he were half a world away. Put her body on high alert, making need pulse through her.

  “Are you gonna keep staring at D, or read the damn book?”

  “I am read—” She dropped her gaze to the Grimoire to find George sprawled out over the page. His tongue slithered out of his mouth and over the lens of one inky eye.

  “You were saying?”

  She grit her teeth. “Get your critter off my book.”

  Harry picked George up and deposited him on his shoulder. “Did you even look up the spell?”

  “Yes.” She speared her fingers through her hair. “I found the summoning spell. We have Crowley’s name. It should be fairly easy.” She glanced over the spell one last time. “There isn’t anything unusual here.”

  “You find what you’re looking for?”

  Duncan’s deep voice rolled over her, warming her from the inside out. “Yeah.” She repeated what she’d told Harry. “We need to call the coven, and—”

  “Already done. Kasdeja will get them here.” Duncan folded his arms over his chest while he studied her.

  “Oh.” Goddess help her, she wasn’t ready. The coven had never liked her much. She’d left them to fight the Nephilim while she traveled here. They wouldn’t be happy with her. She bit her lip.

  “What’re you worrying over now?”

  The coven. What she would say to them. What they might say to her. How she could find a way to be alone with her mate. How she could make him understand her remaining concerns about being with him. “Nothing.”

  His gaze bore into hers for a long moment. “Yeah, all right.” He gave her a wink before glancing around. He turned to Harry. Sand covered his whole back. “Hey, pup. Doom said he’d show you up to our rooms. Go check it out, yeah?”

  “On it.”

  She brushed her hand over Duncan’s backside.

  He whirled around, took a step closer. The look on his face . . . . She stood, making her chair scrape across the floor as she backed away. “You’re covered in sand. I was just cleaning you off.”

  He didn’t respond. He unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt. Deliberately. Slowly.

  “What are you doing?” She glanced around at all the other daemons in the main part of the hall. Harry and Doom had left, but they were far from alone. Some of the daemons paused their conversations, taking an interest in what was happening. “They’re watching.”

  “I’m checking on something.” He stalked forward the last few steps and her back came up against a wall, stalling her retreat.

  “What?”

  He took her hand and pressed her palm to his chest. “I think you’re looking for a reason to touch me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.” The little hairs scattered over his chest tickled her fingers. A shiver stole over her skin.

  “How’s that?”

  Perfect. She wanted more. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Let you do what you’re dying to do?” His fingers twined with hers. “God forbid.”

  She flattened her other hand against his side, unsure if she did so to touch more of him, or to keep herself from plastering herself up against him. “Dunc, please.”

  He stooped down to whisper in her ear. “You’re making us both suffer. Why?”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze. “What if I’m not strong enough? What if I hurt you with my power?” Or the spell on her arm. She had to find a way to get rid of the tattoo.

  He pressed her palm to his cheek. “What if I’m strong enough to keep you from ever getting to that point?” His broad shoulders blocked the rest of the room from her view but she had no doubt the other daemons were watching. He was a mountain of a man and it would be so easy to rely on his size alone.

  But she used chaos Magic. She knew all too well that the largest, strongest things in the world were made up of the same stuff as the weakest. The smallest. The most fragile. “I’m doing my best to keep you safe, Dunc.”

  A humorless laugh escaped him. “Twist the knife a little deeper. I’d rather you think me ugly than weak.”

  “We can’t—”

  His expression hardened. “I’m not having it. Not anymore.”

  “Having what?”

  “You, pushing me away.”

  Her breath caught. “You said you wouldn’t—”

  His grasp tightened on her hand. “We�
��re mated, you and I. I had hoped you wouldn’t find me so damn revolting—”

  She shook her head. “That’s not—”

  “—you might get past whatever’s keeping you away. But I can see patience isn’t going to win out with you.” He released her hand. Bowed and hauled her over his shoulder. All the air whooshed from her lungs and she had to suck in a hard breath to shout, “Duncan!”

  “Don’t make a scene, Duchess.” He turned amid the cheers of the other daemons and strode across the room.

  Trina flipped the hair out of her eyes and shot them her best bitch face.

  The daemons stopped.

  Duncan turned a corner and went down several flights of stairs.

  “This is uncomfortable, damn it.” She wriggled, trying to get into a better position. “You know what I could do to you. Put me down.”

  “Do it.”

  The circuitous stairs flying past made her dizzy. She shut her eyes. “I might.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Damn you!”

  They went through a door and out into the night air. He shut the door behind him and locked it before setting her down. He put the key far out of her reach on the stone arch surrounding the door.

  “Seriously?” She could have that key in three seconds flat.

  “Your Magic won’t work here.” He walked away.

  She focused on the stones. On the individual particles making them up. She spread the fingers on her hand as she willed the door to dissolve.

  Nothing happened.

  “Told you, no Magic here.”

  “How?” She whirled around.

  “Don’t think I’ll tell you.” He looked fierce as hell. “You and I are gonna have a chin wag, but first, I got a surprise for you.” Duncan stepped back, revealing a spring surrounded by smooth rocks. Thick steam hovered above and the humidity in the air suggested the water was bathtub hot. She dragged her gaze away to find Duncan half naked. “What are you doing?”

  He paused in the process of removing his pants. “Huh. I didn’t take you for the prudish sort.” He stripped his remaining clothing off.

  “I’ve never been accused of being a prude in my life. You’re naked.”

  “Easier to bathe. I’ve got sand stuck in places I’m not keen on having sand.” He eased into the steaming water with a moan. “You should come in.”

  “I don’t t—”

  “You stink, too.” He winked, taking the sting out of his comment.

  Tempting. She was tired. A little sore. The water looked enticing. He did, too. Right now, though, the water held her rapt attention. Crystal clear beneath the cloud of steam, no sulfur smell or menacing bubbles suggested the water was dangerously hot.

  “I’ll stay on my side.” He waded deeper into the pool where the water rose to his shoulders.

  To hell with it.

  She wanted a steamy bath and the spring was plenty big enough for them both. Making her way around to the far edge where the steam blocked her view of Duncan, she slipped out of her clothes, grateful for the puffs of vapor keeping her partially concealed, and eased herself down.

  Her skin turned to gooseflesh as she sank into the liquid heat. She sighed, tipping her head back and wetting her hair. The water eased away the tension in her muscles. She let her eyelids slide shut, rested back against the smooth rocks, and allowed her mind to wander.

  *****

  Be like Charlie. Open. Forgiving. Don’t give up.

  Trina looked like a napping water nymph with her dark hair slicked back and all that gorgeous skin on display. He eased up next to her. “Tell me something—”

  She jumped, splattering them both.

  “Sorry, love.” He wiped a hand over his scruff. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Her eyes narrowed into accusing slits. “What happened to staying on your side?”

  “Yeah, about that. I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit.” He tried to maintain a somber, apologetic façade, but broke into another grin. He couldn’t help it, he had her alone, wet, and naked. “I like to see who I’m chatting with.”

  She shot him the stink eye before settling back the way she’d been, this time keeping her eyes open.

  “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

  Her slips parted. “You want to talk about this now? While we’re naked?”

  “Yeah. From what I’ve seen so far, you tend to be more honest about things between you and me when you’re starkers.”

  She closed her eyes. “You’re . . . you’re not what I expected.”

  You’re ugly. Stupid. Useless.

  Damn. He’d asked for honesty, but it still stung. Come on, be like Charlie. Open. Caring. No matter what. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is that such a bad thing?” He leaned in until the individual onyx flecks in her dark brown irises became visible. “I’m not asking for . . . ” Passion? Trust? Love? He threw away that line of reasoning and settled for, “Can’t you like me a bit, despite me being . . . different?”

  A tremulous smile touched the corner of her lips. “Just a bit.” She closed her eyes and leaned back again. Some emotion passed over her features he couldn’t quite place, but still made his chest ache. “You like stories.”

  “’S’pose.”

  “When I was little, I got into trouble all the time. I came into my specialty early—the telepathy, anyway.”

  Christ, he’d forgotten she could do that.

  “I couldn’t control it. I heard everything everyone thought. The good and the bad. I couldn’t concentrate. I was clumsy as hell. Depressed. Angry. I learned firsthand that people rarely said what they thought.”

  Christ, he couldn’t imagine knowing everyone’s unfettered thoughts. No wonder she second-guessed everything he said. “Like what?”

  “My fifth grade teacher pretended to want to help whenever I got lost in class . . . and the whole time she worked with me, she was thinking I sucked up too much time. She wanted to focus on the smart kids. Thought they were getting a raw deal.” She shrugged. “Everyone has unkind thoughts. And when you’re a difficult kid . . . .”

  “Not everybody—”

  “Everybody.” Her gaze met his. “When you fight with Harry, you never have an unkind thought?”

  Little shite. “I concede your point, go on with your tale.”

  Her eyebrows knitted and she waved her hand. “That wasn’t the story, just information so you can see where I’m coming from. Okay, so living at Haven House sucked. We didn’t go out. We didn’t get presents. Clothes were shared. Toys were shared. But this one day, not long after the last of our mothers’ funerals—I must have been nine or ten—Rowena gave Nan a break and took all of us out.”

  The daft bitch must’ve felt guilty, as she should’ve. “Where to?”

  “She took us to see the Doll Lady.” She dipped lower in the pool, wetting her lips. “This old woman with hunched shoulders and all these deep wrinkles. Her knuckles were so gnarled I have no idea how she made the treasures she created. Every kind of doll covered every available space in her living room—porcelain dolls, teddy bears, ragdolls, princesses, and stuffed frogs.”

  He grinned at her wistful expression. “Sounds like a little girl’s fantasy.”

  “We each got to pick one to keep. Lil got a doll with a porcelain face and purple dress with ruffles, Kat took a sock monkey, Meredith picked a floppy lion, Brenda . . . .”

  How the hell did she remember all that? She rattled off the type of stuffy each of the other twelve girls chose in vivid detail. Even after all these years her voice had a note of excitement.

  “What about you?” He touched her shoulder, letting his fingers caress down her arm into the warm pool. “Which did you choose?”

  “I don’t know why no one else saw it, a great big teddy bear sat in the corner.” Her lips curved. “As big as me, with tattered ears and glass eyes. His paw pads were real leather and he looked like his arms and legs and butt were weighted. He was perfect.”
/>   “What’d you name him?”

  “I didn’t choose him.”

  He frowned. “Why the hell not? What did you get? A doll like Lil’s? Another stuffy?”

  “This little rabbit fell on the floor.” Her words came faster. “Nothing more than a yarn head on a Popsicle stick. She’d glued on paper-thin felt ears and googly-eyes and a yellow dress.”

  He’d seen a rabbit like that in her room back in Haven House—stuck in an empty pot of dirt, its yarn head yellowed with age. “Why would you—?”

  “The bunny got knocked to the floor when Lilith took her doll—an accident. Claire and Zoe both stepped on it when they chose their toy—they were so excited to pick out a toy I doubt they even noticed.”

  An accident of fate . . . kind of like him showing up at Haven House. He clenched his jaw.

  “The Doll Lady demanded to know who’d trampled the toy. She said they’d have to put their doll back and take the rabbit.”

  Just like her chosen mate hadn’t work out, and the Watcher sent her him. “What are you trying to say?” His words grew clipped. This little trip down memory lane was leaving him gutted.

  “I wanted the teddy.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t even touch him.” She sat up. “In my head, the other girl’s thoughts kept saying to pick something already because I’d ruin whatever I chose, so it didn’t matter. Rowena and the Doll Lady, they expected me to take the bear, thinking I’d destroy it and what a shame one of the others had to take the pathetic rabbit while I took something good.”

  “Why didn’t you take the bear?”

  “I panicked. I wanted them to like me, to accept me. And I knew they were right. I would ruin whatever I took. And the bear was so . . . fucking . . . great, right? Did I want to fuck it up? How bad would I feel when it got ruined? And how bad would it suck when I heard their thoughts saying ‘I knew that would happen.’” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “The little rabbit lay by my foot and I picked it up and then I’d already taken it and I knew they wouldn’t let me put the rabbit back and the girls, they hated me more. I thought by taking what no one else wanted they’d leave me be, maybe even appreciate me, but instead they believed I wanted to make them look bad. And I thought that if the rabbit got ruined, I wouldn’t care as much because the bear would be safe but, you know what? It didn’t matter. No matter what choice I made, it was the wrong one. No matter what I did, someone got hurt. Something got ruined.”