Page 3 of Cursed Shadows (Shadow Guardians #2)

EILISH

Grimreap

Shadow Realm

Inside, there are several cots and a small, robed man sitting beside a burning fire. His face is turned away from us; all I can see is the shine of his bald head in the low light of the flame. After my eyes adjust, I notice several other details about the room—the most alarming of which is the man lying on a bunk in the darkest corner of the room. He’s still, as if asleep, but his arms and legs are bound to the cot beneath him.

“Ah, Revenant,” says the man without turning to look at us. “You brought friends.” Then, he faces Dragan. “And one of them is wounded.”

“Wounded?” I ask, looking up at him in surprise. He places me on my feet.

“The manticore infected him,” Baron says to the old man, with no emotion in his voice. He reaches inside the leather satchel around his waist and hands the old man a vial of something clear.

“Come,” the old man orders, and Dragan approaches him. It’s then that I notice his limp. I’m shocked that he’s carried me all this way when he was injured the whole time.

The man removes the cork from the vial and faces Dragan. He reaches for the gargoyle’s right leg and lifts it. In the low light of the fire, I can see the rip in Dragan’s black pants, just below his thigh. The old man rips the rest of the pants to get a good view of the wound. It’s glaringly red and dripping blood.

“This will burn,” the old man warns before he dumps the clear liquid from the vial onto Dragan’s leg. The liquid immediately begins to bubble up in a misty foam. Dragan’s hands clench into fists and he closes his eyes, sealing his lips in a tight line. The liquid, meanwhile, has stopped foaming and is now steaming up the air.

“It will take a few hours to heal completely,” the old man says and nods quickly to Dragan.

“You have my gratitude,” Dragan replies in a deep, low voice before he turns around and faces the others. Everyone has been quiet as we’ve watched the old man tend to his wounds.

Cambion speaks, and his voice sounds exhausted. “You go by Revenant now,” he says to Baron, but his inflection doesn’t pose this as a question, just a statement. Baron doesn’t respond.

“What is this place?” Dragan asks, but he receives no response. Instead, Baron removes the numerous bags he’s tucked underneath his jacket and places them by the fire. He doesn’t seem to have heard Dragan.

Suddenly, the man I assumed was asleep lets out a gagged scream; if in pain or fear, I can’t tell. The legs of his cot grate against the floor as his arms strain against the bindings, his body violently seizing. He shakes his head back and forth, his eyes clamped closed, and he continues to yell into the rag that covers his mouth. Then, as quickly as the screaming began, it ends. The man’s head rolls to the side as he appears to find sleep once more.

A feeling of foreboding washes over me.

“I have brought… people in need of help, Master Ash,” Baron says, finally.

I notice Cambion and Dragan watching the interaction with pointed curiosity and surprise.

“How did you find us, Baron… Revenant?” Dragan asks.

“Find you?” asks the vampire, seemingly confused. The more he looks at both of them, the clearer it is to me that he doesn’t recognize them.

“Don’t you know who we are?” Cambion asks.

Baron looks at Cambion quizzically but remains silent. He turns to Master Ash. “They require a room and food,” he says. “Can you… will you accommodate them?”

From the corner, the bound man comes to life again, the veins in his arms protruding against his pale skin as he violently rocks and moans. Master Ash rises from beside the fire and goes to the man’s side.

“ Atacomite withdrawals,” he says, as if he feels the need to explain the man’s condition to us. I suddenly wonder if I appeared the same when the Atacomite was forcibly leached from my body. Regardless, the man’s agony now makes sense. It’s a hell I would wish on no one.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“It’s whatever you need it to be,” replies Master Ash, facing me for the first time. He studies me for a few moments, his eyes narrowed. I wonder if he can see through my facade.

“Revenant, show them to their accommodations,” he barks and retrieves a bucket from beneath the man’s cot. Master Ash begins to wring out the wet rag inside it. Delicately, he soaks up the sweat around the man’s forehead.

Baron leads us to the far side of the room. Then, he faces the wall and closes his eyes.

“ Reveal Passage ,” he says in a low voice. Almost immediately, a wooden door appears in the stone wall. Through the door is a dark hallway with scattered doors along either side.

“Can we trust him?” Cambion whispers to Dragan, who looks at Baron and shrugs.

“We don’t have much of a choice at this point,” Dragan admits, and inhales deeply. Then he faces Master Ash. “You’ve helped me, and you’ve helped us,” he says as the latter simply nods. Dragan reaches inside his pants pockets but Baron stops him.

“There’s no need for payment,” he says, shaking his head. Dragan looks surprised but pulls his hands out of his pocket all the same.

“I never thought I’d encounter kindness in Grimreap,” Cambion says once we’re out of earshot of Master Ash.

“All things require balance,” Baron replies, opening the door to a large room, revealing a bed and a wash basin. It’s nothing much, but the sight of the bed makes my chest swell. Suddenly wanting nothing more than to relax my weary body, I walk over to the bed. Dragan is right behind me. I sit down and he stands above me as if he’s acting the part of sentry.

“Now it’s time for you to start explaining a few things,” Cambion says as he faces Baron and the rest of the group enters the room. Thoradin closes the door behind us.

“I have nothing to explain,” Baron responds drolly, eyeing the door and moving closer to it.

“You have plenty to explain,” Dragan puts in. “For starters, how is it possible that you’re even standing here, talking to us?”

“I don’t know,” Baron says, and eyes both of them with suspicion before he wraps his arms against his chest. “Perhaps I should be the one asking the questions. Why do you both think you know me?”

“Why do we know you?” Cambion asks incredulously. “Baron,” he begins but Baron pulls back at the sound of his name.

“And why do you continue to call me that name?”

Cambion frowns, then looks at Dragan who returns his gaze with raised brows. “Because it’s your name,” Dragan explains as he faces Baron. Thoradin is quiet in the far corner of the room and Flumph floats over to the bed, takes a seat on the pillow beside me, and is quiet for once.

“I don’t know that name and never have,” Baron responds icily. I can tell he doesn’t trust us, and by his body language, he might believe Dragan and Cambion are feeding him lies.

“You don’t know your name?” Cambion asks.

“My name is Revenant,” Baron insists.

Everyone is quiet for a few seconds. Baron is the one who breaks the silence. “You should take this opportunity to sleep for a few minutes. You can’t stay here long. It’s not safe in this city.”

“You still haven’t—” Cambion starts, but Dragan interrupts him with a shake of his head.

“He’s right. We need to rest,” Dragan says. Cambion spears him with a cross expression for a moment or two but finally nods.

Then, everyone begins to move toward the door to leave. I can only assume there are more rooms for the rest of our group, but after the drama of the day, no one is eager to go their separate ways. There are still so many unanswered questions. For now, though, there isn’t anything I can think about beyond the call of the pillow. I’m leaning heavily into the bed and can barely keep my eyes open.

But I don’t want Dragan to leave me. He’s the one I trust the most, and he’s the only one who seems to care about me. Physically, he’s definitely the most menacing. I glance up at him to find him already looking down at me.

“Will you stay with me?” I ask in a small voice.

He seems surprised, but then must realize I know I need his protection. He merely nods.

The others start filing out of the room as Flumph floats into the air and throws his hands on his hips. “Hey, Baron, er, Revenant guy, you gonna give us some eats?”

“You just ate,” Dragan reminds him.

“Don’t change the fact that I’m still hungry,” Flumph retorts with a squished expression. “An’ who the hell know when we gonna eat again.”

He has a good point.

“Sleep is more important,” Baron responds. “You have, perhaps, twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes!” Flumph shakes his head. “I’m hungry, I’m ass tired. I almost died because o’ some hairless fuckin’ cat with a tail that’s as broken as Shadow King’s dick,” he continues, and I have no idea what he’s going on about. Then I realize he’s talking about the manticore… and Dragan? I stifle a smile at that.

“You weren’t anywhere near the manticore,” I point out. “We were in the tavern the whole time.”

Flumph turns his angry eyes on me as Cambion covers his laugh with a cough.

“My life was easy,” Flumph continues with a heartfelt sigh. “Yeah, it was borin’, but it was safe.”

“Flumph,” I start with a sigh, knowing no one wants to hear this.

“Know what I did all day?” he interrupts but doesn’t wait for anyone to answer his question. “I filled Anona’s wine glass when it got empty. That’s it! An’ sure, she was a bitch, but she never sicced no fuckin’ demon cat on me!” Then he faces Dragan. “I risked my easy life to tell you ‘bout this angel’s wings an’ what do I get for thanks? Backwash soup an’ a kitty with a temper. I shoulda kept my big mouth shut!”

“I’d like to see that,” Cambion says flippantly.

Flumph flies over to the foot of the bed and puts his hands on his knees. He’s panting slightly.

“The angel has wings?” Baron asks, his voice slow with disbelief. He stops walking through the door and turns around, entering the room again and closing the door behind him. His eyes find me and his gaze lingers, as if he’s seeing me for the first time. I can’t read his expression.

“That’s debatable,” Cambion answers and glares first at me, then at Flumph and, finally, at Dragan.

Baron’s eyes are still locked with mine. “Is this true?” he asks me.

My mind catches when I try to conjure a memory of my body, and whether or not I had my wings amputated. There’s nothing there. Nothing at all. Flumph says he’s seen my wings, but my memory starts three days ago and it’s mostly filled with large blank spaces where the Atacomite numbed me.

“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I woke up in the woods outside of precinct five three days ago with no memory of who I was or what came before.” Speaking is still difficult, and my voice feels hoarse from disuse, but the emotion I feel propels me forward. “I was running from something, I don’t know what. All I know is, whatever it is, it was bad.”

“And now we have Variant to worry about, as well,” adds Cambion darkly.

Baron’s head snaps away from me to look at the Seelie king. “Variant knows you have her?” Variant’s name on Baron’s tongue sounds like a curse. His eyes are sharp with hatred.

“We don’t know what he knows,” supplies Dragan. “But our guess is word has reached him by now. He’s probably looking for all of us.”

For once, Cambion doesn’t jump to disagree, he just nods solemnly.

“And you know nothing about who was chasing you or what they wanted?” Baron asks me. His direct gaze makes me feel flustered and I shift my weight slightly, Dragan tense beside me.

I shake my head. “Someone put the markings on me and they were convincing enough to fool Anona. Or maybe they’re real and I really don’t have my wings?” I shrug. I notice Dragan swallowing hard and Cambion frowning. “But before waking up in the forest, there’s nothing. I didn’t even know my name until…” I trail off, realizing none of them knows about the voice in my head.

After her apparent excitement at seeing Baron, the woman’s voice quieted down, but I still feel a presence there. As much as I trust Dragan, I’m not eager to share the fact that I’m hearing voices. Luckily, no one seems to notice my lost train of thought.

Cambion furrows his brow. “The Atacomite must still be in your system.”

I think of the man lying on the cot and of my own heinous journey in ridding my system of the poison.

Baron interjects, “ Atacomite can powerfully dull the mind, but full memory loss isn’t a side effect of the drug. Whatever the source of the angel’s amnesia, it isn’t the work of any poison.”

“My name is Eilish,” I nearly interrupt him. Baron looks at me in surprise. “Don’t call me the angel… please.”

I notice Dragan smiling, though I’m not sure why.

Cambion faces Baron. “I’m a master healer. I think I know the effects of Atacomite well enough.”

“A master healer who couldn’t successfully rid her of her poison?” returns Baron as he crosses his arms against his chest and regards Cambion with little interest. Then, he gestures to me. “Clearly, she’s still suffering.”

Cambion’s nostrils flare. “I’ll have you know—” he starts.

“Have me know what?” Baron interrupts. “ I am a master of poisons. I’ve used every concoction known to the three realms and developed immunities to over half of them. I own poisons that can kill a man the moment they touch his skin, others that can make him speak the truth no matter how badly he wants to hide it, poisons that can paralyze, cause hallucinations and produce nightmares the likes of which you’ve never seen. I can tell you, with complete conviction, that Atacomite did not do this to the angel’s memory.” He clears his throat as he shoots a quick glance in my direction. “To Eilish’s memory.” Then, he walks over to me, but Dragan immediately intercepts him with a cold expression. Baron glares up at him.

“I won’t hurt her,” he says.

Dragan inhales deeply, but steps aside. Baron faces me and leans over, reaching for my arm. He attempts to slide the cloak up but as soon as his fingers touch my wrist, something happens.

I feel a chilling cold ripple through me. My chest feels tight. Images I don’t understand drop in front of my periphery.

“Arise, my Revenant,” a melodic voice chimes.

And when I open my eyes, I see that I’m trapped in something wooden and confining.

“Come, my Shadow Knight,” the voice continues. “Call on your shadows, Revenant, tell them to free you.”

I push against the wood and it splinters beneath my hands and breaks away. And then I’m surrounded by an avalanche of dirt, cold and wet.

“Open your eyes and behold a world you have not seen in far too long,” the voice announces. “You have arrived, Revenant.”

I don’t understand where I am. Surrounding me are headstones, broken and crumbling.

“What has happened?” I demand, and my voice is deep, a man’s voice.

“You have returned upon my dictate,” the woman answers. “I have awoken you from your forever sleep, Revenant, because I have need of you.”

I blink and find the vision gone. Instead, I’m looking into Baron’s eyes and he’s staring back at me with an expression of shock. He doesn’t release me, and I don’t pull away from him. Instead, we both just continue staring at one another.

It’s then that I realize I just witnessed Baron’s rebirth, the moment he woke from the grave. Everything I just saw was through his eyes.

“We still have questions, Baron,” Cambion says from where he stands beside the door. “You haven’t answered anything.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have any answers for you,” I tell him slowly, still not taking my eyes away from Baron’s. I understand now. I understand why he doesn’t know the name “Baron” and why he doesn’t recognize Dragan or Cambion. As far as Baron knows, he’s only just met them.

“And how would you know that?” Cambion nips at me.

Dragan is eyeing me with interest. Baron still appears shocked, but he hasn’t released me.

“Did you see it, too?” I ask in a soft whisper, meant only for him.

“Yes,” he replies, and his eyes are wide.

“See what?” Dragan asks.

I clear my throat and I feel Baron finally pull away from me. He stands up straight and appears as though he has more questions for me, but he doesn’t voice any of them. Everyone else is looking at me expectantly.

“I saw a vision of Baron’s rebirth,” I explain, glancing at him with an apologetic smile. I’m not sure if he wants me to share what I saw, because it’s incredibly personal and I can’t imagine it’s a happy memory for him. But I also know the others have questions and until those are answered, no one is going to trust anyone. And right now, we need to trust each other.

“His rebirth?” Dragan asks, eying me narrowly.

I inhale deeply. “Yes, he was called back to this world for a purpose.”

“And what purpose was that?” Cambion asks.

“I don’t know,” I say as I face him. “All I can tell you is that he was dead, but he’s been brought back for a reason. And that’s why he can’t remember anything from before, including his name. As far as he knows, there is no before.”

When I look at him again, his eyes are full of something—pain, maybe? I suddenly want to take him in my arms and hold him, to let him know everything will be okay. But I can’t make him that promise and, furthermore, I know Baron wouldn’t welcome my pity. He’s like a feral animal, lost and confused and ready to lash out at anyone and anything.

Even now, as he looks at me in shock and wonder, there’s also suspicion behind his gaze. As amazed as he is to find out I know the truth of his rebirth, he still doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t trust anyone. Maybe that’s how he’s been able to survive as long as he has.

“Baron,” Dragan starts, and Baron jerks his head toward the larger man.

“Revenant,” he says in a hiss.

“Revenant,” Dragan corrects himself. “Welcome back.”

***

DRAGAN

And I thought I had it bad…

Compared to Cambion in his forest sanctuary, my life isn’t exactly a fairy tale story. For a time, I took solace in the misery. It was retribution for my sins—my atonement. Even if pleasures of the flesh had been at my disposal, I wouldn’t have indulged them. After the war, I was no longer a king. I was no longer the man deserving of those rewards. Slowly, arduously, that time passed. And then, more time still—until I’d more than paid the price for my failure.

My imprisonment turned my immortality into a sentence of unending torture. And yet, for Cambion and me, our imprisonments were blessedly only physical. Our constraints were tied to our locations, not to our minds.

To lose our identities, entirely?

Most times, my memories feel like a curse, but at least I have them. To be unaware of the bounds of my immortality, unaware of my purpose or my past, unaware of the reason for my fears or my anguish or my need for revenge? I’d take another century of celibacy over that.

Yes, I thought I had it bad. But Baron’s hell is much worse than anything I could imagine.

Then my thoughts turn to Eilish and the pull I feel towards her. Maybe I would have felt this way even if she weren’t physical perfection. My body, so desperate for sexual release, might have reacted this way to any woman within view. But somehow, I doubt it. There’s something about Eilish that’s different; I still can’t put my finger on just what that something is.

There were times before the war—and I’m not proud of these times—when I took many women to fulfill my own desires. But once I’d failed in my duty to protect the realms and was banished to the Gorge, my desire for female company died along with my freedom. Until now.

Many of my doomed gargoyles had bought affection wherever they could find it, but I’d never stoop so low, even in my most desperate hours. I understood their need, though. Opting to take the time to earn a woman’s trust would leave them with loins wanting.

And then, I remember the promise I made to myself—that once I entered Grimreap and found the time, I would pay to visit a woman. Even though I haven’t had any time to myself, it doesn’t matter; the idea of finding solace inside another woman leaves me feeling cold and empty. I would rather watch Eilish sleep than spend the next however long in the arms of a woman I don’t know or care about.

Something is desperately wrong with me.

I turn to look at Eilish and find her already the subject of Baron’s direct gaze. Despite my relief at his return, I can’t help but feel threatened by his presence. The way he looks at Eilish rouses me; the sense of need behind his eyes is greater than the need I feel for her, that much I can tell. It unseats me. Not out of something so immature as jealousy, though. His need seems deeper than merely sexual. I can tell Cambion desires her sexually, but I believe that’s the extent of his interest. Baron, on the other hand, seems to desire her. As if he would consume her, were he given the chance. And, as a vampire, he could very easily kill her if he chose to.

It’s part of the reason I don’t trust him. I don’t know him anymore. It’s been over one hundred years since his death and, in that time, he’s been reborn into a different man. Who’s to say he’s still the same, virtuous man he was in the past? We’d be foolish to assume such is the case.

And Eilish…

She isn’t just the first woman I’ve spent time with since my exile—she’s also the key to my future, to everyone’s future. Protecting her means protecting the three realms, something I wasn’t able to do before. But something I’ve sworn to right this time around.