Lost in Shadows Read online

  This was the scariest part. The nothingness. The loneliness. This was where I feared getting stuck, and until I passed through to the other side, I was pretty much a wreck.

  In front of me, the darkness began to move. At first, the changes were difficult to discern, but the mist moved as well, and soon I could see the mists mixing with the black, faster and faster, until the mists and the blackness formed a vortex, and I was sucked in, closer and closer, until I was finally thrust through the middle and emerged into a blinding white light.

  I blinked and realized I was looking at a huge expanse of sky. I shifted, rolling over, and discovered that I was floating above rocky terrain into which someone had carved buildings. I tried to shift to get a better look, but I couldn't manage. Not this time.

  I was looking—or trying to look—at the place where one of the pieces of the Oris Clef had been stashed. On my last two trips I'd been dumped unceremoniously into the middle of the target location. This time, however, I couldn't even get a clear view, much less get close. Somehow, the relic was being protected even from me and my supersecret decoder skin. And didn't that suck the big one?

  I frowned, trying to find some additional clue. Because if I couldn't get there through a portal in my arm, I was going to have to use the old-fashioned method of taking a plane. But to where? Buildings carved into rock weren't common, but they also weren't rare, and without some idea where exactly the key was, I could be bouncing all over the globe trying to find my vision. Good for frequent flyer miles, not so good for my sanity. Or my sister.

  Trouble was, I saw nothing. I was too far above the site, and yet I had no range of motion. Nothing, that was, except for flipping over and looking at the sky again. And since I had no better idea, that was what I did right then. Maybe the sky held a clue. But when I looked, all I saw was a whitewashed blue that shifted to black as the sun set before my eyes.

  The stars came out, winking and twinkling, and I lay there, floating on a current of air and thinking that I had never once in all my life seen the stars so clearly. After a while, they didn't even look like stars anymore. They looked like drawings. Like sketches. And soon all that was left as I looked was a square chunk of space that was filled with what looked like a hand-drawn map of the very stars I'd been watching.

  And that, I thought, was weird.

  I tried to commit the image to memory, but visual recall was never my strong suit, and before I could even take a second look to bolster the image in my mind, that damn tug was back, as if a giant hook had emerged from my gut, grabbed hold of the skin around my belly button, and pulled me back inside. Hard and fast, and there was Clarence, both hands holding tight to my own, and his face beaded with sweat.

  "What?" I asked in alarm. "What happened?"

  "Felt like I was losing you a couple of times."

  "I couldn't get a good view," I said. "It was like the place was protected or something."

  Clarence ran stubby fingers through his sweaty mass of hair. "So now we know. We're more careful next time."

  I swallowed. Next time. And there would be no avoiding it. I had to play along because if I didn't, Rose was dead.

  "Could you see anything?"

  I told him, trying hard to describe the strange image in the sky and the unusual buildings in the hillside. "They were all carved into the stone," I said, my eyes closed so I could picture it better. "But one building seemed to emerge from the top. I think I recognized it."

  His eyes lit "You know the location?"

  "No, I mean the type of building. It was one of those—what do they call them?—like in Chinese action imports. Once Upon a Time in China and all that." Movies & More, my place of employment before I got into this new demon-killing gig, had a huge collection of Asian action flicks, and I loved them all. For that matter, with my sword and magic map arm, I almost felt like a character out of one of them. The tragic heroine trying hard for redemption, and in those movies, the good guy always won.

  The thought gave me a moment of peace. At least until I remembered the demons whose essence I absorbed daily. Maybe I wasn't so much the good guy after all.

  "So that's it," I said with a shrug. "Like I said, I couldn't get close. Is it enough? Can you figure out where it is? Do you have a jet? A private plane?"

  "I think perhaps a bridge will do the job better."

  I frowned. A bridge was the name he'd given to the way I'd always gone through my arm to end up at a place. "I just told you it didn't work."

  "That doesn't mean we can't conjure another bridge. A stand-alone. Using the map on your arm as a destination marker."

  "That will work?"

  "Possibly," he said thoughtfully. "Possibly."

  "Oh." I wasn't sure what to say to that. On the one hand, I wanted to get the damn relics and get it over with. On the other, I didn't want to be walking a bridge through other dimensions if we weren't absolutely sure where I was going to come out on the other side. I mean, I'm a big fan of Space Mountain and all, but the dark on my freaky arm bridge isn't just an absence of light; it's an utter void, without time or space or light or anything, and you're all alone, trapped with the thought that if the other side of the bridge closes off, you'll be stuck there forever, lost in nothingness for eternity.

  Talk about your scary bedtime stories.

  "Clarence," I said, this time more urgently. "You won't do it unless you're certain, right?"

  "Hmm?" He looked up at me, distracted. "Oh. Right. Of course." He tapped my arm. "The protections are a bit troubling, but on the whole they were to be expected. No, it's the other two images I'm worried about. Or the absence of images." Without asking, he yanked my arm toward him.

  "Hey!"

  “Touch them again."

  I did what he asked, even though I wanted to smack him for bossing me around. Then again, bossing me around was what he did best.

  We both looked at my arm. Nothing.

  "Maybe there's an order," I said. "Maybe after we get the piece from the buildings in the hill, the other images will pop to life."

  His eyes went wide, impressed, and he tapped the side of his nose. "Listen to you," he said. "You just may be right." He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled noisily. "Okay, I'll do some research, find the location, and we'll put together a game plan for going in."

  I cocked my head, taking devious pleasure from the fact that I was about to antagonize him. "How come we need a game plan? The pieces are under guard, right?"

  "We presume so," he said, looking puzzled. "It is also possible they are simply well hidden."

  "Oh." I hadn't considered that maybe the pieces were basically buried treasure. "But if they are guarded, then aren't we on the same side as the guards? We're all the good guys, right? Trying to keep the pieces away from the demons?"

  Uncertainty played over the lying little frog's face. Then it cleared, and he sucked in a breath, going, "Ohhhhh. I see your confusion."

  I crossed my arms over my chest, wanting so badly to tell him that I knew the truth that my stomach hurt. I wanted to scream at him. Instead, I said, "Confusion?"

  "If they exist, those who guard the pieces will be neither good nor bad, neither friend nor foe."

  "Huh?”

  “They have one purpose only," Clarence said, "and that's to keep the pieces safe. Warriors," he said, "who would not give up the pieces even to the Archangel Gabriel himself."

  I hated the fact that I didn't know if he was telling me the truth. Because what he said sounded perfectly reasonable. "But then why are we even going after them? Won't these warriors keep the pieces out of the demons' hands?"

  "With the approach of the convergence, the demon population is desperate. Many will be willing now to try anything to obtain the Oris Clef and the power it wields. Their assault will be brutal and deadly, and if the relic is there, the demons will find it, warrior guards or not. Make no mistake, Lily, either as to the extent to which the demons will go or to the breadth of their power." He drew in a breath. "The on
ly way to protect the pieces is to take them. Take them, and destroy them."

  I knew damn good and well that he had no intention of destroying them, and his smarmy "beat the demons" attitude made me want to gag. At the same time, it occurred to me that Kokbiel and Penemue probably weren't the only ones looking. Surely there were other big-shot demons looking to be king of the universe. An inconvenient fact that still brought a smile to my face. Bring them on. The more I killed, the more powerful I'd become.

  Except how did those demons know where to look? The question turned my smile to a frown, and I posed my question to my demonic froggy handler. "I mean, they don't have my arm," I said in conclusion. "So what are the demons using to find the relics of the key?"

  "You," he said. "The demons will seek out you."

  I swallowed. I was strong—and getting stronger— and I had that nice immortality thing going for me. But that didn't mean I was invincible, or impervious to pain. And being immortal didn't mean I couldn't lose. It only meant that if I did lose, I'd have a long, long, long time to think about it.

  Not that I intended to show any fear or doubt in front of Clarence. Instead, I shot him my best haughty look. "I'm ready."

  "Probably," he agreed. "But we're not taking any chances. You're too important," he added. "That's why you're not doing this solo. Lily, my girl," he said, his eyes bulging with pleasure, "from here on out, I'm teaming you up with a partner."

  7

  “A partner," I raged, bursting into the cheap motel room. "I can't pull this off with a partner watching my every move."

  Deacon and Rose both looked up at me, his face hard behind dark glasses, hers soft and worried.

  I focused on Deacon. "You're here." I'd expected him to be gone. I'd expected to walk into a room with a mouthless Johnson and my possessed sister.

  As pissed as I'd been at him, I have to admit I was a little relieved. “Is she—"

  "Normal," he said. "Right now, anyway. Hasn't said a word, but she's awake. Alert. And I haven't seen a hint of our friend since you left."

  I snorted. “’Friend.’” Yeah, right. Yours maybe." And though it was a joke, I was certain I saw Deacon flinch.

  On the bed, Rose shifted. "Lily?"

  I rushed to my sister and pressed my hands to her cheeks. I almost looked into her eyes, but at the last moment remembered and shifted my focus, staring instead at the pattern of six freckles on the curve of her nose. For a second, I considered going for it—peeking inside her mind. But I feared that if Lucas was in there, he would share the vision. Might even be able to get a grip on me mentally. I didn't know if that was an ability the demon bastard had, but I did know it wasn't a risk I was prepared to take. I was sickened enough that he'd gotten his hooks into Rose. No way was he getting them into me, too.

  "Lily, what's going on? What's wrong with me? What did he do to me? I can feel him, in there, in me, and it's . . ." She trailed off into sobs, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do except hold her and pat her and promise it would be okay.

  I'd made promises to Rose before. Promises I hadn't been able to keep. About this, though, I was determined.

  "Where is he?" I asked. "Is he listening? Is he inside, watching it all? Laughing at us?"

  "He's dormant," Deacon said. "And there's no way to know if he hears."

  I squeezed my sister tighter, determined not to treat her differently. Determined not to think about the fact that when I was touching her, I was touching Lucas Johnson.

  As she pressed her face against my shoulder, I looked up at Deacon, suddenly realizing who we were missing from our little party. "Where's the rest of him?"

  "Gone," Deacon said, his expression as dark as his tone.

  "Are you insane? You let him go?"

  He pulled off his glasses, and for the first time I saw the dark bruise rising over his left eye. "I didn't." He shifted his steely gaze from me to Rose, and as he did, my stomach did a complicated acrobatic move as I realized that Rose—or rather Johnson—had freed the mouthless body.

  "Out of respect for you, Lily, I didn't hurt her body. But rein in your new pet, because if that prick touches me again, I swear I will tear through the body to get to the beast inside."

  I shivered, because I believed him. I even sympathized with him. But if he touched a hair on Rose's head, I knew that I would end him.

  Impasse, much?

  I blew out a noisy breath, then pressed a kiss to Rose's forehead before getting up and pacing. Because I had to move. I couldn't think if I didn't move, and right then I really needed to think.

  "I'm serious," I said, deciding the only way to deal with Deacon's threats against my sister's body was to push them aside and hope we never got that far. "It's one thing for me to play double agent if I'm working by myself. I can pretend to lose a battle. I can wing it I can somehow figure out a way to keep my cover without killing the good guys."

  "You can't do that with a partner."

  "I know." Even though Clarence had assured me that those guarding the relics would be neither good nor bad, I didn't believe him. Why would he tell me the truth about this one thing when everything else had been a lie?

  I couldn't think of a single reason, and that suggested to me that my suspicions were true: The guards were innocents, and I was meant to kill them.

  Collateral damage, I thought, my stomach twisting at the words. Wasn't that what Deacon had called Rose? Collateral damage.

  She wasn't, however, collateral to me.

  I'd killed before to keep her safe. I could do it again.

  "I'll make it work," I said aloud. "I'll figure out a way not to kill." Or I'd try. But if push came to shove, I was doing whatever it took to stay alive. To get the Oris Clef.

  To get back my sister.

  "Dammit, Lily . . ."

  "No," I said, shaking my head. "It's worth it."

  His eyes cut to Rose, and I could see the frustration envelop him like a dark cloud. "Rose can't be your first priority," he said. "Not now. Not anymore."

  "You know what, Deacon, " I said, moving to stand in front of him. "Fuck you. Fuck you and your visions and your redemption. You think you're the only one who's been to hell? I'm living here, every single day. I've got demons breathing down my neck, pulling my strings like a puppet. First Clarence, then Johnson, and now you. It's my decision, dammit. Mine."

  "Then make the right one."

  I lifted my hand to slap him, for no particular reason other than that I needed to blow off steam.

  He caught my wrist and held it, and damned if he didn't look me right in the eyes. I felt the pull of the vision, my breath ripping out of me from the force of it. And then, just as the vision was about to suck me in, I heard Deacon's harsh, "No," then felt the shock of his mouth closing over mine.

  He took me—claimed me—the intimacy overwhelming despite the fact that we touched nowhere except lips and hands and wrists. His mouth was heat and male and delicious sin, and I wanted to drown in it. Wanted to forget the freak show that was my life.

  Wanted to forget that my sister—and a demonic invader—was sitting not five feet away, watching with slack-jawed wonder.

  I jerked my head, breaking the kiss, my eyes finding Rose, who was, as I'd imagined, staring in our direction, her expression a mixture of awe and longing.

  I drew in ragged gasps of air as I faced Deacon, my head shaking. "I can't do it," I said. "I can't do what you want. You prove to me the lock's really out there, and I'll consider it. You figure out a way to get Lucas out of Rose, and I'm totally open to other game plans. But until then, I'm working this gig. Until then, I'm protecting my sister."

  "This is about more than your sister."

  "Maybe," I admitted. "But I can't save the world. I tried that once, and I failed. But I can save Rose, and I'm not going to walk away from that."

  He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "You've made your decision."

  "I have."

  "And I've made mine." He put the glasses on and took
a step toward the door.

  I hurried toward him. "What are you doing?"

  "I told you," he said. "I'm not standing around and watching you do this. You want to play welcoming committee for the Apocalypse, you do it by yourself."

  He paused in the open threshold, his body silhouetted by the afternoon sun, the light making him look like exactly the kind of angelic helper I needed.

  Too bad he was just the opposite.

  "I do have one idea," he said, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Rose, and my heart lightened just a bit.

  "An idea?"

  "Maybe. It's risky. But maybe . . ." He trailed off with a shake of his head, then stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  "Wait!" I hurried forward. "That's it? You're leaving?"

  My heart twisted at the thought. I might not completely trust him, but I wanted him around. And not just because Deacon Camphire had gotten under my skin. I wanted him watching my back and it irked me that that wasn’t going to happen. “You’re really walking out on me?”

  His smile was grim. "I'll be around, Lily." He shot a quick glance toward Rose. "There's no way I'm letting Kokbiel get his hands on that key. So I'll be back. But you may not be happy to see me."

  8

  I sped through the late-afternoon traffic on my vintage Triumph Tiger, Rose's arms around my waist and her face pressed tight against my back. There was fear in her grip, and so help me, I was glad. Glad to be scaring my little sister by going too fast on the motorcycle she'd never liked and had always refused to ride.

  Because so long as she was scared, she wasn't Johnson. And so long as she wasn't Johnson, her touch didn't nauseate me.

  "What are we doing, Lily?" she asked, as I idled at a red light.

  "Alice," I said. "You have to call me Alice. And I told you. I have to make things right with Joe."

  "Oh. Right. I remember." But her words were fuzzy, as if she was picking over complicated memories. I fought the urge to ditch the bike, pull her into my arms, and promise her that I'd get things back to normal. I couldn't, though. That was all I'd ever done—make promises. Now I had to act on them.