Page 1 of Shadow Boxed (Shadow Warriors #2)

Chapter one

Grief felt like a blizzard...an arctic wind howling like a banshee and flinging needles of ice straight into her heart.

Her fingers tight around a colorful ceramic coffee cup, Muriel stared out the kitchen window into a gray, glacial morning.

It had been snowing since she’d arrived back at The Neighborhood.

Only it wasn’t a gentle, fluffy storm. It was an icy.

..windy...blizzard that intensified the empty chill that froze her from the inside out, even though a steaming cup of coffee warmed her palms and Olivia’s kitchen surrounded her with warmth and brightness.

But all she felt was cold...isolation...emptiness. Numbness.

Endless, ugly grief.

She took a small sip of coffee, vaguely aware of the stinging across her bottom lip.

She was chewing on it again, enough that it already felt raw and cracked.

But then everything within her...around her felt.

.. raw...since Wolf had shown up on her front porch a week ago.

No call. No text. Just his big, bulky presence pounding on her door.

Perhaps he’d thought his presence would be a comfort. It wasn’t.

But then nothing would have blunted the agony of finding out that her brother, Samuel, was dying and her son was dead.

Daniel was gone, just like that. Forever.

She’d drifted through the subsequent days in an icy, merciless fog.

Vague images trickled through her mind. The silent, echoing trip up to Shadow Mountain—surrounded by luxurious upholstery and plush carpets—to claim her son’s body.

The flight back down to the Brenahiilo, even hollower, more fractured.

The too bright Kalikoia haemitnes murals surrounding Daniel’s body on the haemitnes-cee had burned her eyes.

The too-loud chants and beating drums, as her son was given back to Hokalita, had bled through her ears.

Everything was too sharp...or too dull..

. or too loud or too silent, like reality was winding up then slowing down.

A surge of grief rolled up, so strong and so sudden, she didn’t have time to guard against it.

Daniel…my baby…my beautiful boy… Images surged. Flopping hair, black as a raven’s wing. Clever, dark eyes. A stubborn chin. Sunkissed skin. The light that shone in him...through him. The sun that everyone revolved around. Gone.

Such a perfect bright soul. Just...gone.

Memories flooded her. Daniel as a toddler, his laughter infections.

As a child, fearless, constantly on the move.

As a teenager, surrounded by friends, always one step ahead, always leading the way.

And always, always…no matter his age…no matter who was with him…

always the light everyone rotated around.

She shook the images away and concentrated furiously on the winter storm outside the kitchen window, instead of the one within her, tearing her apart.

Muffled footsteps approached the kitchen. She knew they belonged to Olivia, rather than Gracie, her daughter—Daniel’s twin—even before she glanced up. Her daughter was avoiding her. Gracie wouldn’t willingly step into the kitchen while Muriel was there.

She scooted her chair around, as Olivia, her brother’s fiancé, shuffled into the room with the slow steps and slumped shoulders of someone reaching the end of their tether.

A too-bright, too-positive expression was pinned to her oval face despite her posture.

She’d showered recently. Her face and hair looked freshly scrubbed.

She’d even taken the time to braid her long, black hair.

But the spark of positivity that burned in her dark eyes looked more fragile than it had when Muriel had left for the brenahiilo a week ago.

Muriel knew that glimmer of optimism was driven by desperation. Olivia could feel Samuel slipping away. So could Muriel.

Without a word, Olivia headed for the coffee pot, poured a cup, and carried it to the table, taking the seat across from Muriel.

“The weather app says the storm will get worse,” Livvy said after sitting down. “If it gets too bad, we’ll have to stay on base until the weather clears up. Gracie better come with us. It could be dangerous down here if the electricity and heat go out.”

Muriel grimaced. A headache kicked up at the thought of talking to Gracie. Shadow knew, at nineteen, her daughter insisted she was capable of making her own decision. She wouldn’t be happy to hear she needed to accompany them. By the Hee-nes-ce, she’d probably refuse to board the chopper.

Muriel knew most of Gracie’s recent meltdowns were due to grief, so she tried to make allowances for her behavior.

Daniel had been Gracie’s only friend. Her confidant.

Her twin. The sun she revolved around. His death must be gut-wrenching for her.

But she refused to admit that...refused to talk about it.

..acted like it didn’t matter at all. Gracie had always been an introvert—avoiding people, avoiding conversation—but she’d gotten so much worse over the past week.

There had long been a chasm between Muriel and her daughter.

From birth, Gracie had kept her at a distance, pulling away from her hugs, avoiding her presence, indifferent to her love, restless when held in Muriel’s arms. But Daniel’s loss had deepened and widened that rift.

Rather than bringing them closer, his loss was ripping them even further apart.

She remined Muriel of her father…except for that giant chip on his shoulder. Gracie didn’t face life with anger; she faced it with apathy and isolation. Nor did she have her father’s instinct for needling people. Gracie didn’t push people’s buttons. She slipped beneath them.

“Maybe we should skip flying up today.” Olivia’s voice seemed to come from a distance. Warped and echoing, even though they sat across from each other. “We sat with Samuel yesterday, when you and Gracie arrived. We can visit him again once the storm passes.”

“I thought choppers could fly in snowy weather,” Muriel murmured, barely paying attention. It was difficult to concentrate on anything with Daniel’s loss ripping her soul apart.

“They can. Most of the time. But the weather app is calling for forty mile per hours winds. Strong wind plus lots of new snow creates blizzard conditions. Lack of visibility will shut the choppers down.”

Muriel nodded, relief flickering at the thought of not having to confront Gracie. It wasn’t like Samuel was expecting their visit, anyway. Or even knew when they sat beside him.

“We can prepare the house in case the electricity goes out. Bring more wood in for the fireplace. Find Samuel’s camping stove and propane bottles. Find the coolers in case the fridge goes down so we can store food outside.” Olivia’s voice petered out.

They both sat there, silent, trying not to think too much as the warmth from their coffee cups slowly faded.

A strange hooonk....hooonk...hooonk came from outside. It was so loud their heads turned toward the window.

“What the hell was that?” Muriel asked, leaning closer to the glass, but nothing was visible amid the blowing particles of white.

“No idea.” Olivia leaned into the window. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Another round of hooonk....hooonk...hooonk pierced the glass. This time, a lethal growl followed the honking.

“Now that’s a cat.” Olivia shoved her chair back and stood, sidling around the table. “It sounds like it’s coming from the garage, although I don’t see how anything could have gotten in there.”

Muriel followed Livvy up and into the living room, then down the short hall to the garage door. Olivia turned the knob and thrust open the door...to nothing. At least nothing but Olivia’s SUV. No strange honking creature. No cat either.

They stood there for a moment, Muriel hovering over Olivia’s shoulder while they both peered into the shadowy garage. Another sound drifted to them. Areeeceehhhhhk . This time more screech than honk. Another deep growl followed. Both came from beyond the garage door.

Olivia jogged down the three cement steps, and across the garage floor.

Muriel was right on her heels. In tandem, they converge on the door set in the corner of the room, next to the huge roll up doors.

As Olivia opened the door, the wind wrenched it from her grasp and flung it against the inside wall with a thunderous bang.

Even with Olivia’s body cushioning the brunt of the storm, its icy blast still caught Muriel in the face, stinging her cheeks, chin, and nose.

Areeeceehhhhhk Areeeceehhhhhk hooonk....hooonk...hooonk.

The screeching and honking were louder now.

Her gaze followed the squawks to the driveway and zeroed in on a large brown bird, with a cream-colored breast. A band of iridescent pin feathers circled the base of its elongated neck.

Still screeching, it stretched out its neck and flapped its wings.

The band of iridescence glittered with jewel tones of emerald and sapphire against the blowing white.

It opened its small, pinched beak, thrust its head forward, and screeched.

Aaaronckcooo.

“By the Goddess...is that…a...? No, it can’t be…” Muriel closed her eyes and blinked rapidly. There was no way the bird screeching and honking in the snow could be a—

“A peacock. That’s a damn peacock,” Olivia said, her voice flat, as if she didn’t quite believe the identification herself.

Muriel opened her eyes and stared hard through the blowing snow. It sure looked like one. But—"What the hell is a peacock doing in Alaska, in the middle of winter? Peacocks are not wintry weather birds.”

Areeeceehhhhhk. Aaaaronckcooo. Hooonk.

Muriel’s eyebrows rose; it sounded like the bird was agreeing with her.

“We could just ignore it. Maybe it will go back to wherever it came from,” Olivia finally offered.

“In the middle of a blizzard?” Muriel shook her head, slipping past her and out the door. “It’ll die out there.”