Page 15 of Cursed Shadows (Shadow Guardians #2)

CAMBION

Mortal Realm

The buzzing grows louder until I feel the rope at my hands being pulled. Within a few seconds, the binds begin to loosen. Even once my hands are freed, I remain unmoving, fighting the smile that threatens to take my lips.

I’m so grateful for that fucking sprite, I could kiss him.

“The others?” I ask in as low a voice as I can manage.

“They’s all been freed,” he whispers. I square my shoulders and face the question of what to do now.

“I don’t recall where the antidote is located,” Baron says.

“Just tell me the name of it,” insists Anona.

“It possesses no label, thus it will be impossible to find.”

“How convenient,” she mutters.

“If you look at the vials, you will notice very few have labels,” he responds.

She glances down at the satchel and nods, agreeing with him. “Describe the antidote,” she orders. As she approaches the fire, I hear the rattling of glass once more.

“It’s a clear liquid with a slight purple hue,” Baron says.

“There are two that match that description,” she answers. “I can barely see anything in this blasted light.”

She’s correct. It’s difficult to see anything in the darkness, and I mostly rely on my keen hearing. I make out the sounds of footsteps crunching and watch as Anona approaches Baron. Dravon and the other men are just beside her. Before I know what’s happening, Baron kicks the burning coals of the fire directly at them, catching Anona in the face and the men in the upper chest area.

In a moment, I’m standing. My muscles protest the movement, but I brace myself for a fight and run to Baron’s side. Eilish and Thoradin are fast behind me. I don’t know where Dragan is, but I don’t have time to wonder.

Overhead, we hear the heart-stopping whoosh of large wings, and when I glance upward, I see Dragan diving down from high above us. He’s partially in his gargoyle shape, but he maintains his fleshly coloring. With his long hind talons, he grips onto the shoulders of one of Anona’s men and soars back into the sky, only to release the man on top of an especially dead tree.

The man screams as he’s impaled through his neck on a branch. Dragan then dives down and grips the shoulders of another of Anona’s men before flying back up into the sky.

Thoradin immediately goes after Dravon, a fight that doesn’t appear fair as Thoradin is clearly the larger of the two. But Dravon has a surprise—a shortsword. With one arm still covering his burned face, Dravon plunges the blade deep into the abdomen of the gargoyle.

“No!” Eilish shouts behind me.

Thoradin falls to the ground, his expression entirely blank. I watch in disbelief, but Baron is quick to take action. He reaches into Anona’s lap to grab his bag of poisons and, as he does, several of the bottles scatter to the ground. There’s a loud yell as Dragan releases the man from over fifty feet in the sky. He lands on the remains of the motorized wagon and is killed instantly. Anona and Dravon still furiously wipe at their faces and the smell of singed hair and skin is thick in the air, their howls of pain echoing through the forest.

“Run!” shouts Baron, turning to me and motioning to Eilish, as if I should be the one to see to her safety. I don’t argue, much though I also don’t consider myself her protector. That position is reserved for the idiot gargoyle.

Thoradin remains lifeless on the ground, but we don’t have time to worry for him now.

I reach for Eilish’s hand, ignoring the flash of light I see behind my eyelids which means a vision is threatening to overtake us both. Instead, we take off down the road. My legs scream in pain, but we don’t stop. She’s also staggering slightly. I urge her to run faster.

“Stop them! They can’t escape!” Anona cries from behind us, her voice dissolving into little more than a sob.

Her cries slowly recede as we flee deeper into the forest. Finally, when Eilish comes to a halt behind me, I stop running.

“Please, no more,” she pants, her arms tucked into her sides. I, too, pause. My breath is coming in short, labored gasps, and my lungs burn with every inhalation. Flumph flutters down to the ground and catches his own breath.

Beside us, Dragan lands heavily, his huge form creating a thud that moves the forest.

“Where’s Thoradin and Baron?” he asks.

No one answers.

“Where’s Thoradin?” he repeats, more forcefully this time.

“He… He…” Eilish struggles to speak between her labored gasps.

“Dravon killed him.” Baron suddenly appears behind her to answer Dragan’s question. Baron’s calm, not struggling to breathe like the rest of us. Because he’s vampire, he possesses no circulatory system.

Dragan stares at Baron for a moment, as if he’s processing Baron’s words. And then, his knees bend beneath him and he launches himself once more into the air. His wings tight to his side, he soars like a rocket to the tops of the trees, where he lets loose a yell so intense, it feels as though the entire forest echoes. With a large gust of wind, his wings spread open, fanning air through the trees like a cyclone, spilling leaves to the forest floor. He hangs, immobile, above us. So high, his abnormally large body looks small and far away.

When Dragan returns to the ground, more gently this time, his face is stony and unyielding. His thick, intense brows are knotted together. “We must get his body.”

“Are you kidding?” I ask him, incredulous. “We just barely made it out alive! None of us are going back!”

“Cambion is right. It’s too dangerous,” Baron agrees. “Thoradin is dead. There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

Dragan’s eyebrows furrow even more furiously. He grunts, then begins to walk away from the group. Eilish starts after him, but Baron puts out a hand to stop her.

“Let him go,” he says. His voice is gentle and I wonder why. Perhaps it’s just my imagination but it seems Baron has softened towards the mystery angel. I’m not certain why and I believe it foolish on his part. We still know nothing about her and it’s for that exact reason that I don’t trust her.

Reluctantly, she obeys. Dragan’s figure disappears into the darkness of the trees before us. We stand in silence for a moment, staring at the ground, and I begin to replay everything that just happened. I can’t unsee the image of the blade plunging deep into Thoradin’s chest. My time with him has been short, yes, but his loyalty to his king was something I admired.

“He was a good man,” I say aloud. The group somberly nods.

“Shouldn’t we go and look for Dragan?” Eilish worries. I want to lean in and touch her, though I can’t explain why. Regardless, I resist, and instead just stare into the shadows where Dragan disappeared, shaking my head no.

“Thoradin was a loyal friend. He won’t take the loss easily,” I tell her. “And now, he needs time to himself. To grieve.”

Baron nods somberly.

“Don’t worry, angel,” the sprite says as he manifests from nowhere. The bloody thing is beyond irritating. “I got somethin’ that’ll cheer you up!” He flies to a nearby tree, where he picks up something that’s obviously heavy—his wings struggle with the new weight of whatever it is he’s carrying.

As he returns, I have to squint to see the object in the dim. But, when he comes closer, I make out the turquoise blue of Riverine . He triumphantly brings the rock into the circle and offers it to Eilish, who extends her palm.

He drops the stone into her hand and places his hands on his hips. “Just when youze was startin’ to think I wasn’t worth nothin’!”

Baron and I exchange a look.

It appears luck is finally on our side.

***

DRAGAN

The intensity of my grief at Thoradin’s death surprises me.

In general, I don’t consider myself a man who makes close ties or associations. Yes, Thoradin stood by my side since the Great War, but I would never have labeled us ‘close.’ And yet, now, looking back, maybe I should have.

I can’t help but feel responsible for his death. I brought Thoradin on this journey with me, pulled him away from the Shadow Realm where his immortality was guaranteed. I put him at risk when this was my mission, my atonement for my own personal failures. I had no business putting his life in danger.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat in a similar position: head in my hands, stone in my heart, and a hardened resolve never to care about another person again.

I’ve fought my closeness with Eilish for this reason. Maybe it’s why I reacted so badly at discovering she’s more than she is—that she could be Succubus. Maybe my reaction was just an excuse to crawl back into my hardened shell, to refuse to be close to her.

No, I tell myself. Your reaction was born from the fact that she fooled you. She seduced you and you fell for it, because that’s what Succubae do.

I’m a fucking fool.

Yes, I know only too well what Succubae do—how they destroy a man, how they suck from him his very will to live.

At the thought that Eilish fed off my life energy, I feel my hands fist. I’m convinced that’s what happened—it was the reason why I was exhausted after I fucked her, and she felt so invigorated.

Yet, the feeling when and after I fucked Eilish was different to the feelings when I fucked Lamia and her daughters. Instead of the icy tendrils of power that reached into me, sucking out my life force, I felt tired, yes, but invigorated as well. I never experienced the gut wrenching pain I did with Lamia, nor the need to wretch up my insides.

The only similarity between both experiences was the exhaustion, the feeling of something being drained from me. But even that feeling didn’t last long with Eilish. Nowhere near as long as it did with Lamia, at any rate.

The more I consider sex with Eilish, the more I realize it can’t really be compared to sex with Lamia.

Regardless, Eilish fed off you and decreased your strength, I remind myself. Maybe fucking Eilish was more pleasurable than fucking Lamia, but it doesn’t change the fact that Eilish stole your vitality from you.

Yes, Eilish did feed from me without even realizing it.

Or maybe she did realize it and pretended otherwise, I correct myself. Cambion was right; we shouldn’t trust her. And now that I know what she truly is, how could I ever bring myself to trust her again?

Because, truly, if she is Succubus and angel, she’d be powerful in an unknown way as this pairing has never been seen before. I still don’t understand how it’s even possible.

Or would she be more powerful? I argue internally. Maybe the darkness in her merely contradicts the light, neutralizing her angelic abilities?

Maybe she isn’t even angel at all?

I know that logic isn’t sound. When Cambion performed the Enchantment of True Seeing , Eilish revealed the truth—that she was angel. And, furthermore, I’ve seen firsthand what she can do—what she did to the bone devil. She annihilated it—blasted it with light magic that surprised us all. She’s powerful and then some.

And that is a realization that scares me because I remember, only too well, the power of the Succubae. I shudder as I think Eilish is one and the same as Lamia—that she’s demon.

But is it right or fair to blame her for the fact that she’s a crossbreed? It’s not as though she can help it.

That no longer matters, I argue back. What matters now is deciding whether her angelic or demonic side is more in control. And treating her accordingly.

Either way, I don’t trust her, and I’m going to keep her at arm’s length until I learn more. One thing’s for sure: if she turns out to be against us, she’ll be an enemy that will be difficult to defeat.

Thinking back to Lamia, I feel my heart drop.

I don’t want to have to murder Eilish, but I will, if it comes down to it.

Murder Eilish…

The idea causes something to revolt deep inside me. At the thought of Eilish’s lifeless eyes, I want to commit murder myself.

If she’s Succubus…

I can’t finish the thought.

My inner debate continues to whirl around in my head, with no obvious answers. After another few minutes, my extreme frustration forces me to shelve the conversation for the time being. Instead, I think back to Thoradin, and a weighty feeling descends over me once more.

In the moments following a death, it’s difficult not to think of life and how very fragile it all is. I’ve seen, time and time again, how cruelly it can be ripped away.

Thoradin stood by my side since he was a young man. I watched him grow as a fighter, as a leader, and as a man. And in that time, I never regarded him as anything more than a faithful underling. I kept the line in my mind drawn and sealed. And now, I regret it.

A wave of sorrow washes over me, followed by an intense rage. I feel my hands fist at my sides as my skin grows hot. I want to punish the one who sent Thoradin to the other side, the same way I wanted to punish Variant for murdering Baron, our brother. Or the person who used to be our brother. As to Baron now? He’s not Baron; he’s Revenant.

I don’t believe he’s the same person. And I don’t like him. I don’t trust him.

But do we need him? I ask myself. I don’t know the answer.

All I do know is that this upcoming war against Variant matters now more than anything. In the long, dwindling hours of shadow where I tormented myself with guilt, Thoradin stood faithfully beside me. He never saw me as anything less than his king. To have him taken from me now feels like another in a long line of personal failures.

Avenging Thoradin’s death is now my only solace. Eilish has been lost to me and Baron is a man I don’t know… And I can’t fucking stand Cambion.

Thoradin’s death was unnecessary and it fills me with venomous anger. Furthermore, my view of myself as protector is na?ve. It’s foolish of me to think I can protect Eilish. And now, I’m not even sure I want to.

Of course, you want to! I yell at myself as an image of Eilish suffering at the hands of Variant drops into my head. Instantly, my body goes into attack mode, and I realize with fury that she’s still underneath my skin. I still care about her, even though I hate myself for it.

Regardless, I have to face the truth in the reasons why I’m now where I am, the reasons why Thoradin is dead. My ego led to our capture. I shouldn’t have bothered with Cambion back on the road, before Anona overtook us.

Cambion was just being his assholish self. My temper got the best of me when I should have realized the situation we were in.

This is entirely my fucking fault and I will never forgive myself.

I sit alone in the dark forest, racked with grief. It’s not just for the loss of Thoradin, a heavy price, but for the loss of faith in myself. For the loss of… hope in Eilish. She’s a wild card now, and that makes me wonder what I’m really even doing. When she was fully angel, I believed she was the answer to defeating Variant but now...

Does this mean she isn’t the answer to defeating Variant?

I don’t fucking know because I don’t even know how much of her is Succubus and how much angel.

I pick up a rock and close my fist tightly around it. Squeezing until the rock punctures my palm, the pain shoots up my forearm and into my shoulder. When I open my hand, the rock has crumbled into pieces of gravel—all colored red with my blood. I release the crumbles and wipe my wet hand against my pants.

Suddenly, I hear someone approaching from behind me and quickly turn my head to identify my company.

It’s Eilish.

The last fucking person I want to deal with right now.

She comes to sit next to me, the flesh of her leg touching mine.

I hate myself for the reaction she has on me—the heaviness in my groin, the memories of thrusting inside her.

Fuck me, but I still want her.

Now.

The End