Page 8 of Between Bloode and Death (Between the Shadows #5)

CHAPTER

EIGHT

At a once-abandoned house at the edge of the city, the site of a brutal massacre where dozens of lycans and humans had been sacrificed to a demon, Val stared around at the green grasses and mounds of sloppy flowers growing at an astronomical rate.

Just yesterday, there had been sprouts. Today, she saw entire orchids, tulips, and crocuses in full bloom. And there, a hint of wildflowers in the grass near the garage the pack had been repairing. Very odd, but she had no idea what to do about it.

She didn’t know how she felt about squatting in the demon house, as the pack liked to call it. But they had limited funds and too many people needing a home. Thus, the Beast Brigade had taken the demon house as their new headquarters.

Despite insisting Talon purge the house before they’d moved in, he hadn’t tucked into every corner of the place with the best mages. Again, on a budget. She had a feeling he assumed she’d take care of the magical aspects of their mission.

Which she would, though she hated to feel taken advantage of. Their partnership should be fifty-fifty, but lately it felt like Val had all the heavy lifting while Talon boozed and schmoozed his way in the bazaar under the context of “networking.”

“Ha. Networking my ass.” She yawned, exhausted, and tasked Aisha to clean the dirty areas of their HQ. And that took more of Val’s energy since Aisha and Val now shared power.

The witch moved through the property with alacrity and purged spots of ruin left over from the dark magic once used in the house.

Normally, death wouldn’t bother Val. But the previous tenants had tried to bring something from the hell realm into this plane. That attempt left an invisible stain, a slight hold on reality.

That’s all they needed. Some new hellspawn sliding into this mess. She had her hands full just dealing with rambunctious shapeshifters while plotting to overthrow the most powerful, murderous necromancer in existence.

“Yo, Val, where do you want the bed?” One of the two bear shapeshifters living in the pack asked.

“Jekyll?”

“I’m Hyde.”

Jekyll and Hyde Arkouda, the bear twins. Big, brawny, and with a rough handsomeness her girlie parts appreciated, Hyde was one of the nicer shifters she’d dealt with.

“Of course you are.” She couldn’t stifle a yawn. “Sorry. If you could put the bed upstairs in the pink room in the west wing, that would be great.”

“Sure thing.” He carried the mattress and frame with ease. Behind him, his twin ambled by, his grin not as wide, more devious. Something deadly lurked in his gaze, and she considered him a more appropriate “Hyde” than “Jekyll.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded and continued up the stairs.

The house had two stories and close to four thousand square feet, a popular enough attraction until MEC had put a spell over the place to keep curious magir away. Though the crimes hadn’t made national news, everyone in the magical community knew about the horrors perpetrated here.

So much blood and magic. If Val hadn’t been so worried about demon contamination, she might have plugged into the remaining power lingering in the walls and floors in a few of the rooms.

Unlike most magir, she considered demons a necessary evil, so to speak, in the name of Balance. There could be no good without bad, no light without darkness. And no life without death.

But try telling that to the sanctimonious magic users who thought necromancers the scum of the magir community.

She used to think that at least the witches would feel some compassion for necromancers, both of their kind human. But no. The witches enjoyed feeling superior to at least someone on the magical food chain.

Aisha continued to purge the home while Grizz patrolled and the shapeshifters scrubbed the house clean. They’d been living from room to room while getting the house up to snuff, but Talon kept pulling shifters for clandestine missions.

And of course, Val kept adding to their dead army, killing powerful warriors they would need in order to win the coming war. Currently housed in the massive garage, the large number of deceased magir remained in stasis, halting any decomposition.

The spell to create that stasis had taken months to create, but it was well worth it.

“I need sleep,” Val muttered to no one and continued up the stairs to the pink room.

Something outside pinged at her consciousness, but it was there and gone so she ignored it. She had bigger problems. Like a nosy vampire who was going to be a huge thorn in her side. She could feel it.

And what to make of the trouble in the bazaar? Talon would have to handle it without her. The other bazaar shareholders would need to beef up security as well, or MEC would have a field day stepping in trying to tell them what to do.

To keep the bazaar running smoothly, MEC needed to be kept far away. Meh. Cops. Magical or not, they’d always given Val problems.

They hated necromancers, so she had a natural bias against them.

Against everyone, really.

No one liked her. They tolerated her because Talon had ordered them to. But they didn’t like her.

Her eyes burned, and she hated that she could still care what others thought. Val didn’t need anyone’s affection or permission. Not to live the life she’d been given.

No, the life she’d taken for herself.

She found the bears arguing quietly in her room. They took one look at her and hurried out. She shut the door behind them.

Clean of any magical stains, dust, dirt, or crusted fluids from the previously deceased, the room felt fresh, the bed more than welcome. She grabbed a blanket from her pile of belongings on the floor and tossed it over the mattress.

Then she mentally warned her gargoyle, Grizz, I’m taking a nap. Let me know if anything comes. Aisha, once you finish, go relax in the garage and put yourself in a light stasis.

I will, Val, Grizz sent.

Yes, mistress, Aisha answered.

Content that her protector would protect, she gave herself over to sleep.

And prayed she wouldn’t dream.

It rushed through her the way it always did. A murky scent of the Beyond, an otherworldly sensation of comfort and bliss surrounded by the buffered knowledge of pain and loss.

The latest hideaway in a vast number she’d found with her parents, this time in a shapeshifters’ flock. Friends of her parents had taken them in with a promise to keep them safe.

A promise no one could ever seem to keep.

Hiding under her bed, she studied a giant man in a dark robe. He held a staff that glowed so brightly it blinded her. Then the glow settled, and she saw that the bad man held her father by the neck, off his feet. He made her father, always larger-than-life, look puny.

“You disappoint me, Morgan. I offered you a place at my table, and yet you dine with these scavengers instead. I’ll make them suffer. And then you will apologize properly.”

“Never…Vlad…imir. Kill you…first.” Her father struggled, gripping the fingers around his throat that no longer appeared human. Thick and black with gray nails, the digits had more joints than a regular person’s should.

Even at four, Val knew when she saw something alien.

But then, she’d been acquainted with shadows and death from birth, something her family tried to suppress.

“Where is the girl?” Vladimir smiled, his face handsome, though the evil in his eyes warned Val to keep quiet. Even if she hadn’t heeded her father’s warning, the fear coursing through her refused to let her speak.

“Dead,” her father lied.

“Oh, Morgan. Such a disappointment. The stone? Do you have that at least?”

“Wh-what st…one?” Daddy coughed, and blood flecked his lips. His body trembled, and she heard bones snap in his legs and arms.

A flash of understanding—death magic combined with dark magic. Something she’d been told time and time again never to use. But the bad man used it on her daddy, making him cry.

Val teared up, so scared and not sure what to do.

“You know what stone. I want the jewel. Give it to me and I might go away.”

“Don’t…have…”

“Oh well.” The bad man squeezed his hand and smiled. “I’m going to kill them all, you know. Then I’ll pilot them one by one. What fun we’ll have.”

“N-n-n…” Her daddy clawed at the hand around his neck, his movements growing slower until they stopped altogether.

His neck popped, and his head tilted in a weird way.

Mommy howled in grief as Daddy’s body dangled above her, caught in the evil man’s grip. She kneeled on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Ah, yes. Death should always be both gruesome and memorable.”

Though scared, Val didn’t understand Mommy’s tears. Daddy had died plenty of times before, and they’d always revived him. He still played, still laughed, still cuddled with Mommy and shared happy times.

But now Mommy acted as if she’d lost something precious.

Val wanted to help Mommy see they could be okay. She reached out with her magic, though she’d been warned not to.

Her mother quickly reached out with her own power and smothered Val’s. A magical slap, and Val felt sorry for making her mad. But the longer she watched Daddy sag in the bad man’s hand, all wrong, the more she worried.

“Wait. I feel something.” Vladimir paused and threw her father to the floor. He crumpled like a bag of bones in a skinsuit that didn’t fit so well anymore.

“Stop it, Vladimir,” Mommy cried. “Val is gone. She passed away a year ago. We’re trying to move on.”

Val knew the story they told everyone. That she’d died because no one could know Val and her family lived happily ever after. Necromancers had to hide and hide well. So Val stayed quiet, certain she could raise Daddy after the bad man left.

Vladimir laughed, and Val heard the many voices that didn’t belong. They hurt her ears, made her eyes bleed and her heart stutter.

Mommy screamed and screamed. And when the bad man lifted her into his arms and dragged her from the room, she screamed some more.

Val closed her eyes and covered her ears.

But she couldn’t help hearing Mommy hurting. Pleading for mercy, for death. Then the taunts and dark laughter from the bad man.

Needing comfort, Val tried to raise Daddy.

He didn’t move.

Her way was blocked, and that had never happened before.

And then Val felt Mommy in the calm place. Heard her soft voice say, “We have to go, sweetheart. Hide, and don’t ever let the bad man find you. We love you.”

The bad man returned with a girl a few years older than Val. Ava, Talon’s special friend. He dragged her by the arm. “You know where the girl is, don’t you?”

The young girl with him sobbed, so pretty despite her tears.

“Tell me where she is or join Morgan. Pretty hard to fly without wing bones.”

Ava screamed and partially shifted shape, her arms turning to feathered wings as she tried to escape.

Laughing, Vladimir broke her wings and her back while the girl screeched in pain. Then he broke her neck and tossed her next to Daddy.

A larger adolescent eagle dove into the room, his talons out as he attacked Vladimir.

Val immediately raised Ava from the dead and let her shift, broken and all, needing to protect her friend, Talon, before the bad man killed him too.

She merged with Ava and used the girl’s talons to slice into Vladimir’s eyes.

He screamed. Hurting him broke her paralysis, and Val shot out from under the bed.

“Talon,” she cried. “Watch out. The bad man is killing people!”

He landed and shifted in seconds, tears tracking down his face as he stared in shock at Ava and her broken wings, the dead eagle’s talons raking Vladimir’s face.

“I’ll kill you, girl. And all you love. Every fucking one of them.” Vladimir roared with his magic. Demon magic. “Everything in my path.”

Talon dropped to the ground, holding his ears.

Val roared back, knowing deep inside she’d never see her family again. That Talon’s special friend was gone forever, even now wanting to drift into the Beyond to join the ancients of her kind.

Talon gave the scene one more look before grabbing Val and racing from the room outside.

“Go, boy. You know what to do,” Talon’s father said as the flock flew past Talon to confront their enemy.

She and Talon ran, seeking safety while the bad man killed and kept killing. Everything in his path, he’d said. And he kept good on his promise.

Running, flying, moving from place to place. Days turned into weeks, into months and then years. They continued to hide while Vladimir ravaged the country, destroying anyone they’d ever met.

Until it was just Val and Talon, alone, scared, and heartsick. With nothing but each other for comfort.

And even that faded, as time took its toll on the poor souls destined to always be alone…

Val shot up in bed, tears tracking down her cheeks.

“Man, that is some messed up dreaming.” A stranger sat on the edge of her bed, shaking his head at her. He was dressed in what looked like a cream-colored toga that bared his muscular upper torso, his golden eyes shining.

Val stared, agog. “I’m… What? Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell am I?” He scoffed. “Seriously, Valentine Darkmore. Who the hell are you?”