Shadow Burn Shadow World Novella 4

CHAPTER ONE

Dr. Cameron Kalamos scrubbed a hand over his face to wake himself up. "Take it back to 1:45 again, will you?"

"Got it," the lab tech said.

Cam dropped his hand to watch the video play again.

First, the screams from bystanders as they turned to run. A policeman shouted and discharged his weapon once. Twice. A commotion as people fleeing came into direct view. Then the image jerked and spiraled as the guy who was holding the phone that captured the event fell on his back, his phone flipping out of his grasp. But there—in the wild careen of color and sound—a shadow.

"Stop. Go back a fraction of a sec." Cam wanted the best angle, the best saturation of hue. "A little more. There."

The image frozen before him was angled, the creature in question partially cut off, but the silhouette was distinct enough for Cam to recognize an anthropomorphic form, one with the characteristic tilt of catlike eyes, black as pitch. Black like Cam's own.

Hell. Not a wraith, as had been initially reported.

Fae. Its appearance represented the fifth incursion in two months from the Shadowlands into the mid-Atlantic states. All of them not fifty miles from Segue. In fact, Segue was looking more and more like a goddamned epicenter.

A combination of ancient and modern technology could contain a wraith, but nothing of this world could hold something made of Shadow.

Frustration and rage crackled through Cam's system. Yes, the fae were breaching the world in greater numbers, but by nature, they were random and chaotic. This incursion seemed calculated. There was no proof, but this had to be Gunnar Martin's doing. Cam had had his suspicions for a while—all of Segue knew that deadly trouble was coming—but he hadn't anticipated such an oblique assault.

Martin was needling the Segue Institute. Jabbing them where it hurt—the people.

And his strategy was effective. Resources at Segue were at present stretched too thin to assist, the Segue compound reduced to barely enough personnel to maintain the current wraiths in their captivity and hold the surrounding wall. The remaining scientists in residence were not fighters; they worked around the clock to understand what was happening as the world went dark with magic.

Cam knew he and his fiancée, Ellie, might be able to help—a bitter taste of helplessness coated his mouth—but as they were among Martin's targets, they would only bring disaster with them.

How many lives had been lost playing Martin's game of cat and mouse?

Cam steeled himself against the sound of screams still echoing in his head. "Bookmark this image. And log the event."

The people of Strasburg, Virginia, would have to fend for themselves.

The lab tech looked aghast. "You're not sending aid?"

There were children huddling, arms over their heads, in the background of the image. No amount of Cam's anger and frustration—and it glutted his mind and heart—could conjure more soldiers or support. People would have to learn to deal with old monsters again. Stay in their houses. Shutter their windows.

"No," he said. "God help them."

Ellie Russo folded her arms across her chest to stay warm in the crisp, late-afternoon air, though the boys didn't seem to be having any trouble with the cold. They sprinted out into the field gone yellow with the arrival of autumn, excited to be allowed outside.

A brick of guilt was lodged in her chest, made of misgivings and second thoughts.

Not that anyone blamed her, at least to her face. More like they quickly looked away before the blame could show in their eyes.

It was their fault. Hers and Cam's, but mostly hers. She could still feel the resistance when the poker in her hand met bone before driving into Mathilde Martin's heart.

"Go long!" yelled Carter Parson, hands gripping a football. At nine, he was the oldest of the kids living at Segue, the turn-of-the-century hotel converted first into a research center dedicated to paranormal phenomena and now a bastion of human strength and cooperation at the advent of the Dark Age.

The three younger boys—the Thorne twins and Carter's brother JT—ran a ways farther and turned around, ready for action.

Carter drew back his arm and threw the football toward them. The three boys tracked the flight, each leaning into a sprint.

"It's mine!" yelled Michael Thorne, six years old and ambitious, like his father.

The others weren't giving up without a fight.

Ellie winced, her shadow tugging to get free, as she foresaw three heads cracking together as all attempted to make the catch at the same time. They ended in a heap, grappling for the ball.

It was Michael's twin, quiet Cole, who eventually stood, pigskin under his arm.

Good for you, kid.

Ellie rubbed her engagement ring with her thumb, turning it around on her finger. If she and Cam were to have kids, there'd be a good chance they'd be...different, like black-eyed Michael, who took after his half-fae mother, Talia. Or even like JT, who'd been lost once to Shadow and still seemed sometimes to listen to voices or see things only her shadow self and Cam, with his altered vision, could discern.

Ellie laughed bitterly to herself: Even thinking about having children now, with the threat of Martin House hanging over them, was stupid. It was keeping these kids alive that mattered.

"Kill the guy with the ball!" JT shouted.

Oh God. Ellie cringed.

All the boys, including Carter, who should've known better, dived to tackle Cole. Kill the Guy with the Ball was a worse game than Three Flies Up. For some reason, the boys' favorite pastimes seemed to always culminate in pounding on or grappling with each other.

Her shadow pulled harder to rescue the little guy, but Ellie restrained herself.

She turned to one of the soldiers who'd been assigned to come outside with them to stand guard. He had a high-powered rifle tagged to his vest, and a mic at his throat to signal danger, if needed. Four others just like him created a perimeter around the grassy area where the boys played. Cold trees, growing dark, surrounded the property. The air seemed muted and heavy.

"Did you play this rough when you were a kid?" she asked him.

A muscle in the soldier's jaw twitched, but he kept his gaze even...and away from her. "Yes, ma'am."

He didn't seem to want to elaborate.

He fears me, the shadow within her said.

Which was okay. Fear was better than blame.

The guards were her backup, not that she would need it. Despite everything, she was the only one whom Talia and Adam, the twins' parents, would allow with the kids outside while their lives were in danger. Segue's enemies didn't care whom they hurt. Her shadow, with its preternatural sense for intruders, super strength, and savage protectiveness where the children were concerned, had won the parents' trust.

Just try me, her shadow taunted the lengthening darkness.

Talia and Adam had forgiven the irony that it was Ellie herself who had precipitated the danger the children now faced. She'd rammed that poker through the heart of Mathilde Martin, heir to Martin House.

Ellie squinted at the boys to make out whose limbs belonged to whom in the heap. If she had to, yes, she would kill again to keep them safe.

Carter stood, wet spots on his knees, the ball under his arms. Cole and JT wrestled on the grass, trying to pin each other, mimicking the moves of the soldiers when they sparred in training.

"No biting!" JT yelled, as he tried to grab hold of Cole's shoulder.

This was what happened when kids were raised around soldiers preparing for war. Little wolf cubs was what they were.

I want, begged the shadow within.

Ellie went back to rubbing at her engagement ring, her mind once again warring with her heart.

Could a killer and a freak have children?

Wrong question. Should a killer and a freak have children?

She folded her arms tight around her aching chest. Didn't matter. Kids weren't in her future, anyway.